I am tired.
No, not just the haven’t-slept-since-I-had-kids kind of tired. Or even the pretzel-like sleeping positions, you know, cramming four people into our bed at 2 a.m. kind of tired. By all means, this adds to my exhaustion, but there’s so much more to my tiredness.
I’m tired of sweeping the same exact spot in my dining room five times a day. I’m tired of wiping and scrubbing dried up food off of that counter that holds their mouth misses. It’s the same food every day because I’m tired of insisting over and over that they eat anything other than macaroni and cheese, cucumbers and yogurt.
And I’m tired of wrestling a 2 year old to change her — whether it is a wet pull up or just to put on clothes for the day. I’m tired of bribing her with something — anything — just so we can make it out of the house on time (OK, at least close to on time).
And I’m tired of the 20-minute bathroom routine with my 4 year old. Did you wipe? Pull up your undies only first — then it’s easier to pull up your pants. Undies first. No, just your undies. Did you flush? Maylie, flush the toilet. I didn’t hear it flush. Did you wash your hands? Are you sure? They aren’t wet. Did you use soap? Here’s some hand sanitizer just in case — because I’m tired.
And I’m tired of being that horrible mom that makes my children bathe. The entire act is exhausting. From finally getting them into the bath tub, to getting them to sit still to wash them, to the blood-curdling screams when I have to rinse the soap out of their hair. And that doesn’t even include chasing them around the living room to brush the tangles out of their hair — it makes me tired.
And I’m tired of the nightly bedtime disagreements. One more show. One more book. OK, then it’s bedtime. After one more — they want one more. It. Is. Bedtime. I’m tired of the amount of work it takes to just get my babies to bed.
And I’m tired of saying no. No candy until after you eat. No jumping off the couch. No pinching! No, not today. Maybe. OK, just for a few. Because I’m tired.
Then I’m mad at myself for being tired of saying no because when I do actually need to say no, one would think the world was ending. And I’m way too tired to be raising ungrateful and seemingly entitled children.
So then I’m tired of taking things from my babies when they don’t listen. I’m tired of telling them seven times to pick up a toy or put on their shoes. I’m tired of no one actually taking me seriously until my tired self loses it. Then I’m tired of feeling guilty about it.
Oh, I know all about “you’re going to miss this” and “let them be little.” Heck, those repeated sayings, coffee and Jesus get me through my most tired days.
And I assure you, I’m not ungrateful. I thank God daily for my beautiful babies (and sometimes multiple times a day to keep from going off the deep end). And I’ll tell you how wonderful being a mom is — because it IS wonderful. It is singlehandedly the most awesome thing I have ever experienced.
But it is also the most exhausting.
So maybe this is my pity party. Maybe this is my one time to just be OK with not being OK — my three-second Mom break before I snap back into Super Mom cleaning floors, counters, toys, and wrangling two kids for bedtime.
Or maybe this a little piece of hope for that mom out there who is as tired as I am.
It’s OK. We are all tired. And any mom that tells you different is probably too tired to even tell how tired she is. (Or she simply is a fantastic liar).
I know one day, I will miss being this tired. I’m sure I’m even going to miss the 2 a.m. mouth-breathing monster in my face with a side of 4 year old kicking my ribs.
But just for a moment, while my girls are still asleep in their own beds, my dishes are done, my floors are cleaned, and the toys are put away, I’m going to take a second to just be tired.
Tomorrow, I’ll put on my coffee and a smile — right after I put on my cover up over the dark circles under my eyes. And I’ll again hide just how tired I am from my baby girls and make some magical memories with them.
After all, that is what us Mamas do. Even tired ones.
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