Mom Pov Full -

Tomorrow, the alarm will go off again. I will step on another LEGO. I will wipe another counter. I will lose my patience and apologize and lose it again.

I begin cooking dinner. Cooking dinner with children is like trying to perform surgery in a mosh pit. They are under my feet. They are asking for snacks while I am chopping onions. The baby is pulling on my pant leg. The smoke alarm goes off because I forgot to open the window. mom pov full

We get home. The house looks like a tornado hit a toy store. I start unpacking backpacks. Inside one backpack, I find: a half-eaten apple, a permission slip due yesterday, a wet swimsuit, and a rock. Just a rock. Why is there always a rock? Tomorrow, the alarm will go off again

Welcome to my world. Here is the complete, uncensored point of view from the eye of the storm. My alarm is set for 6:15. It is a lie I tell myself every night. I will lose my patience and apologize and lose it again

My heart is so full that it hurts. When my daughter whispers "I love you, Mommy" in the dark. When my son draws a picture of me with stick arms that are way too long. When the baby runs to me for no reason other than to feel safe.

This is the full perspective. It is boring. It is profound. It is the breath between waves. If the morning is a sprint, the afternoon is a triathlon in quicksand.

Do I go to the gym? No. Do I take a luxurious bath? No.