It’s Not Glamorous

The 6 am wake up call. Before the coffee has been made and the sun has come up and my body has had a chance to wake up.

Making a piece-meal breakfast of cheerios and granola and juice for a three year old who wants to eat nothing and everything at the same time.

Trying to eat my breakfast in one sitting, drink a hot cup of coffee and have an uninterrupted conversation with my husband in between “more cheerios please” and “more juice” and “turn my shows on”.

And constantly saying out loud and to myself, “I can only do one thing at a time” and “everyone has a right to eat breakfast you need to wait a minute”.

It’s holding his hand in the bathroom and helping with all bathroom related activities.

It’s “can I have a snack” approximately 3 minutes after he was “so full” from breakfast.

It’s the laundry and the dishes that never ever seem to go away. It’s cleaning up a mess in one room only to find a mess in another.

And never ever getting ahead no matter how hard I try.

It’s do I shower? Or workout? Or write? Or just let it all go.

We watch too much Disney Jr. He dances and sings along and I think TV can’t be all bad.

It’s hugs and kisses and sneak hugs and “I just love you too much Mommy”.

It’s looking at the clock and realizing that he’s been playing quietly.

It’s “what’s for lunch?Is lunch ready yet? Why does my food have to be hot? Why must it take so long? I can’t wait mom”.

It’s “I’m so full. Can I have a snack?”

It’s accomplishing nothing between 1 and 3 when he used to nap and now all he does is whine, eat, drink and shout Mom.

It’s quiet time which is more of a hopeful request than an event that actually takes place.

It’s hoping to write something or fold some laundry or get a workout in.

Between planning a camping trip for Mickey Mouse and making sure all of the stuffies have had a check up and playing trains.

Then giving him the Ipad while I attempt to do a work out and take a shower in under an hour. And coming out of the shower to “Mom I need a snack” “Mom are you done yet, I need milk”.

There’s bargaining and “wait a minutes” and “just a seconds”. And trying to remember that he is little for only so long. And that some day he won’t need me for these little things.

It’s sitting down to type and not completing a sentence. And abandoning the growing to do list again to play and watch a movie and just be cozy together.

It’s elbows and feet and being pushed and shoved and sat on, and him sticking his foot in my face and laughing. Followed by “Mom I tooted on you”.

And then getting up for another cup of coffee because it’s been hours and the last one didn’t do the trick.

And of course it’s nearly time for another meal, so I stare down the fridge and figure out what to make vs what he will eat vs what we will eat and watch the clock wondering how it is still so early but feels so late.

It’s days that are long and full and tend to roll together. Did he get a bath last night or was that two nights ago? And is it OK to serve pasta again?

Dinner is filled with “mind your plate” and “please eat your dinner” and “don’t let the dog get that”. And the husband isn’t even home yet.

It’s sitting in the bathroom while he takes a bath, knowing that I probably don’t need to be there but that I’m just not ready for these days to be over. It’s that I’m typing this out on my phone while listening to him laugh and play and imagine. And that I feel lucky in that moment.

There’s the pictures on my phone that I post to Instagram and Facebook of all the “pretty” things we do and the “cute” things that I wear. It’s all so carefully curated. But more often the pictures and the days are like this, like today. It’s filled with joy and fun and frustration. It’s not glamorous but it’s all mine and I wouldn’t change a bit of it.