The Journal of an Honest Mom

The alarm just went off.

I’m still trying to get my brain to wake up, since apparently my body already has.

As I’m laying in bed, my two oldest decide to join me in my room. Pretty typical. They hear my alarm and suddenly remember they haven’t eaten in at least 10 hours and may not survive much longer.

What was unusual was that this morning, a small plush football accompanied them.

So there I am, still laying in bed, answering questions about breakfast and whatever else they apparently needed to know first thing in the morning. One child is sitting on the bed right beside me. The other is standing on the ground, also right beside me.

And while they’re talking to me, they’re tossing the football back and forth.

Okay. Cool.

About five minutes into their game of toss, I notice the throws are getting a little harder. A little more oomph behind them. Particularly from the child sitting on my bed.

About ten minutes in, we aren’t playing toss anymore.

We are playing dodgeball.

The child on my bed is now trying his very best to hit the child on the ground, and the child on the ground just… knows to dodge it.

There was no conversation.

Nobody said, “Hey, let’s play dodgeball.”

Nobody explained the rules.

At some point they both just silently agreed that we were no longer throwing the football to each other. We were throwing it at each other.

And both carried on accordingly.

Meanwhile, I am still laying there.

This, people, is motherhood.

Sometimes nobody tells you the game has changed. You just realize there are plush footballs flying past your head and adjust accordingly.

So I guess that’s what we’re doing today.

Rolling with it.

Or dodging it.

Whatever keeps you from getting hit. 😂