Confessions from a tired mama

My ears are tired. Everyone is just always talking, all the time. Do not tell my kids that I said this, but sometimes when they are telling me a story that is never-ending I think about what color I would like to paint the walls and if I should get more throw pillows. I feel terrible about this, but it is the truth.

I’m tired of my name. When I hear “Mama!” shouted from the other room, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I love being a mom, but I think we may have worn out the name “Mom.” I don’t want to point fingers, but it could have something to do with it being used 52,000 times a day. It’s practically a swear word at this point. Sometimes when I hear it I want to scream MAKE IT STOP. I don’t, but maybe I could still get a new name, like “Dad” for instance.

My voice is tired. Yesterday I met my friend for coffee and I kept thinking of things I wanted to tell her, except it was too hard. My mouth was worn out because I’d already asked my kids to put on their shoes so many times that morning. She understood and we sipped our coffee in silence until I was able to recover.

I’m tired of cleaning. Sometimes I see a french fry on the floor of my Suburban and I think…nope. Picking up one fry is sure to lead to looking under the seats…and that is a nightmare I’m rarely emotionally prepared for. I also am the queen of shoving all my “stuff” in that closet/drawer/room and shutting the door. My kids do this too, which is not as awesome as when I do it.

I recently went to a friend’s for lunch and she said, “Sorry my house is disgusting, it’s such a shame because it was clean yesterday.”

These are my thoughts every. single. day.

I have to have a coffee before my coffee. I have the one that I buy when I’m running errands and the other one from the pot that gets me to the one that I buy. Some might think this is a problem, but it isn’t. It is only a problem if we are out.

My brain is tired and it doesn’t remember how to do fourth-grade math. It is looking like a looooong road to college.

I’m tired of bedtime. My kids are currently calling me from their beds because I forgot to give them Eskimo kisses. Before that, it was because their water was “old tasting”. This is adorable, and also, I’d rather close my finger in the car door than get up from this couch another time.

Is there an ethical sleep medicine for children? Asking for a friend.

My skin is tired. My children have no understanding of personal space. I love cuddling and touching (mostly), but sometimes I would like to turn on a force field that keeps them three feet away from me; like when I’m on the toilet or cooking dinner for example.

My kids’ rooms and their stuff makes me tired. It is like it rained dirt, debris, and toys all over the floor, and that’s AFTER I ask them to clean it. My boys’ room has begun to smell weird and I’m scared I’m going to step on a lizard or catch ringworm in there. I’m still on the fence about whether I’m going to breathe deeply and close the door…or go in with a hazmat suit and a blow torch.

I’m tired of crumbs, car seat buckles, missing shoes, bickering and Wishing Poof.

I know I look hungover, but I’m not, I’m just a mom and this is how I look now.

I am tired in a way that makes me squint in bright light and chug coffee like it’s the fountain of youth.

But I’ll never ever in a million be tired of them.

I am tired, but I’m the same kind of tired that I feel after a long day on the beach in the sun. I am exhausted, but I am grateful and my heart is full.

Who needs sleep and brain cells?

I’m going to go pour myself another coffee and drink it honor of all my fellow moms.

Cheers to you my friends, we’ve got this.

Originally posted on Wonderoak.