REALITY. I’ve got day 8 hair and a baby who wants to nurse but also wreck something hanging from my breast is a regular occurrence. I haven’t had a decent meal since Saturday, living off of toast and cereal (thank you Dolly for the nutritious milk) and fruit. We are barely hanging on over here if you can even call it that. Life feels crazier than ever, but out of all my seasons I’ve never felt so much peace and purpose than in this one right here.
Mothers are the glue, the kisses-all-better, the story tellers and book readers. The nourishers and nurses. The cooks, cleaners, accountants, teachers, outfitters, researchers…
We do it all and when we feel like we’re failing it’s only because we’re juggling 58,295 balls at once and some are bound to fall but it’s OK when they do because we’re there to mend what’s broken and make sure that at the end of the day the people who are most important to us know that they are.
We’ve got tomorrow’s, we’ve got apologies, we can have hope for the world because we are doing it’s greatest work within the walls in which babies are snuggled and fed and raised to be good and courageous and to do the right thing.
Whatever season you’re in, know you’re doing way better than you think you are. Be kind to yourself. Go easy. There is no greater calling than in doing the little, mundane and ordinary things every single day for the ones you love 💛