Picture this.

Normal, crazy Monday. I wake up get everyone dressed, fed and out the door to school and work. Take care of the two year old and baby at home, shower, switch over one load of laundry, and load the dishwasher before picking up the eldest at preschool at 11:30. Bring them home, make everyone lunches, put all 3 down for naps, switch over another load of laundry and unload the dishes and clean the bathrooms. I wake everyone up, re-fix their hair so they don’t look like a child of Wal-mart, and do one diaper change. Into the car, drive across town, drop off the oldest at dance class. Ok. Forty five minutes. I have forty five minutes to effectively grocery shop with the eight month old and the two year old until I have to be back to pick up the four year old. Game face, I can do this. Make it back in time, drop off dance tuition check that I forgot last week- get everyone loaded back into the car and back home at 5:45. I decide it will be “leftover spaghetti night” since I have to unload the groceries and everyone is starving.

Husband walks in and I kiss him. I put some of the spaghetti sauce in a microwave safe bowl and pop it in the microwave. Beep beep beep. Annoying microwave sound let’s me know the sauce is warm. I open the microwave door, but leave it to pass out sippy cups. Return to counter stick my ring finger in spaghetti sauce, nope- still cold. Slam the door back and start again. Husband comes back downstairs from showering, I ask about his day… Beep beep beep. Open microwave door, leave it to clean up spilled sippy cup, return to sauce- Dang!! Still ice cold. Slam the microwave door shut, restart the sauce. Feed the baby. Beep beep beep. Open the microwave, leave it to wipe the baby’s face, return back to sauce. “Dang it! What is going on with our microwave!! It’s not heating this sauce up at all!!!” My husband looks at me as if I have three heads, and calmly says, “Honey. You just stuck your finger in the cold spaghetti sauce from the fridge, for the third time in a row. You’ve never taken the other bowl out of the microwave…”

This people. This. This is what happens when you are already, A) one of those people who forgets to close the cap on your gas tank. And 2) a mother of any child, (much less the mother of three children, all who are under the age of five.) You want to scream from the rooftops sometimes, “I am fine! I am not insane, and I am a fully competent person under normal circumstances!!!” But for the time being, I am just doing the best I can. Granted, the best I can do still only wraps up to an average of a “7” on a “1-10” scale. And I probably hit that maybe, 70% of the time. But as long as I don’t go below that number… I’ve decided I’m golden. Would I like to be a 10? Absolutely! Who wouldn’t? I know there are women out there that hit this mark. You know, like Mary Poppins. But, I am teaching myself grace- how to give it freely to others, but most importantly to myself. Because, #strugglebus. Come along with me on this little journey and let’s “mama” together.

Listen. This is not going to be a mom shame page. I will not tell you what kind of organic fruit bowl to feed your kid. Or what ridiculously expense ruffle blouse with the peter pan collar you just HAVE to get. Although, I promise to share when I find something cute, and absolutely promise to share when I find a good deal on, well- anything. This is a jesus-lovin, people loving, let’s share this crazy life we all live in together. (ya know, the one where we pray someone else will sign up to bring the homemade cupcakes to the preschool party.) Life is messy and already just so dad-blame hard. So let’s love on eachother, uplift each other, and for the love of the land… just serve up some cold spaghetti, it’ll be fine. You are fine. I am fine. We are all FINE, OK!? 😂