The Journal of an Honest Mom

I sit on my couch, nursing our newborn, when I notice our 19-month-old sneak over to the dining table and steal my cinnamon roll.
Like any other human, I was looking forward to eating that cinnamon roll.
But I’ve spent years teaching my kids that Mom will take care of everything, no matter what it may be. After all, “It will all work out,” is a phrase they hear constantly in our house.
This morning feels different, though.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the never-ending mental checklist. Maybe it’s the feeling that no matter how much I do, there’s always something else waiting.
I’m just… really tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes, but the kind that settles into your bones. The kind where you keep showing up, keep loving, keep giving, keep doing what needs to be done… but you don’t feel like there’s anything left to give.
I don’t need advice. I don’t need someone to tell me how to fix it. I just needed somewhere to say it out loud.
People say motherhood chisels away at selfishness. How could it not? We spend our days pouring ourselves into everyone else.
While our husbands often have more opportunities for “me time,” mothers are usually choosing between two good things, knowing one of them won’t get done.
Do I clean the house, or do I spend time with the kids?
Do I shower, or do I eat?
Do I sleep, or do I wash the dishes?
Every choice means something else waits.
And yet, even in the exhaustion, I know this season is a gift.
“This is just a phase,” I remind myself.
“I once prayed for this,” I remind myself.
“I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else,” I remind myself.
None of those reminders erase the exhaustion, but they do help me keep it in perspective.
One day there won’t be tiny feet stealing my cinnamon rolls. One day there won’t be little arms reaching for me every few minutes. One day the house will be quiet.
I’ll probably miss this more than I can imagine.
So today, I’ll warm up another cinnamon roll, smile at the little thief who thought he got away with it, and keep reminding myself that this is holy work—even on the days when I’m too tired to feel it.