Running Solo

I am super lucky. But some days this is HARD. When I pictured my life as a mom, I gotta admit, I’ve gotten what I’ve always wanted: a couple kids (I guess I’m an overachiever) and the ability to leave corporate life and be a stay-at-home mom. Jon has a great career that affords us the ability for me to stay home with the kids. But with his position, depending on the time of year, he travels quite often. I refer to this time as running solo, and as y’all know, it’s the only running I do. ;). His travel is very manageable, and the trade-off is more than worth it, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.

There’s a sports analogy that refers to kids outnumbering parents- moving from man-to-man to zone defense. While we’re certainly used to being outnumbered around here, when Jon is away, we move from a zone defense to an NHL worthy power play. And admittedly, a lot more time is spent in the penalty box. To put it simply: 4 kids is a lot to manage on your own. My patience runs MUCH thinner, because I have no buffer. My off button disappears. All day, every day, and night, I am solely responsible for each of their needs. There’s at least one with me all the time, and when the big kids get home from school, all hell breaks loose as 16 limbs move in all directions.

There’s no one else to respond to the billion things that come from a house full of kids. Talking to my sister the other day, she pointed out that the boys are probably pretty self-sufficient these days. While true, this comes with its own set of challenges. I’ve traded the diapers and bottles of babies for arguments and attitudes that come with bigger kids. Dish-doer, dinner-maker, tucker-inner, homework-helper, bath-starting, and sport-running. There’s no one on the ropes to tag in. I’m the only one pleading for them to settle down and stop fighting - the sole referee. I’m always the one here which makes me easier to tune out. They become numb to my pleas. To be honest, the ebb and flow kinda goes to shit when he’s gone because I just run out of steam - I’m running on E. Together we run a nice little ship, but alone, some days it’s more like a shipwreck.

10 days and 2 trips ago, I had a particularly rough day. My kids went temporarily deaf and I was at the end of my fuse. I decided to order pizza for dinner because well, why punish myself? And let’s be honest, it went better with the wine.

Last week the kids kept asking me what was wrong and my only response was, this is just my face today. I was still tired from the previous day. I had gotten up at 3am to drop Jon at the airport, drove an hour and a half to pick up the kids at grandma and grandpas, arrived to find one had yet again come down with something, drove another 3.5 hours home, complete with a pit stop that included one of my kids vomiting into a hot cakes lid since I forgot he needs a full stomach when he takes medicine. Thankfully the girls could spend the afternoon at their other grandma and grandpas while I sat for FOUR hours at baseball evaluations. Knowing this kicked off on the first day of a 4 day solitaire run - I guess I’m lucky I only looked tired.

This past Sunday, despite Jon’s departure before anyone was up, I decided to take the girls to church by myself while the boys attended their catechism classes. We go to church regularly, but knowing how they’re supposed to behave doesn’t always keep them out of trouble. Case in point, I let Tenley wander to the stained glass windows in the quiet room. While kneeling, I glanced over to find she was LITERALLY climbing the wall in church, in an attempt to touch a purple piece of the art she couldn’t quite reach from the floor. She wasn’t too happy when I pulled her down, so while I wrestled her in my lap she started yelling “LEAVE ME ALONE!”, repeatedly, DURING The Lord’s Prayer. I wonder if the “peace be with you”s that followed didn’t carry a little extra sentiment from my fellow parishioners that day. Next, at our after-church lunch, I returned from filling drinks to find Tenley had removed her SHIRT. Good thing she’s only two y’all. The afternoon was rather uneventful- the kids played really well outside with one another. I decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and cleaned my car- as an added bonus, I’m pretty certain I’m now immune to the coronavirus. But there’s no other way to describe bedtime that night except HARD. Like pick myself up off the floor, crying my eyes out hard. Toddler tantrums can be brutal y’all. I have no idea what made sweet Tenny’s night so rough, but she needed an outlet and I was the only one here. Between the cries of “I love you mom!”, I could really have used some backup, not to mention I would have loved to see her bitch slap JON with her underwear.

On normal days, bedtime serves as a reprieve from the day, and offers some quality time. But when you’re running solo, it brings a different set of challenges. Once they finally do succumb to bedtime, and sometimes much later, sleep, the house is eerily quiet. I get a little bored with no one to keep me company. My beloved podcast suddenly becomes too creepy. I don’t like to move around the house too much (weird, I know), so I usually turn to TV or Netflix, without the chill. (I only make that joke because I legitimately had no idea what Netflix and chill meant until very recently. If you’re still not sure, ask a 20-something.) Sure a little alone time is fine every once in a while but I’d really prefer the company watching trash TV and finding out if Love really is Blind. Consecutive nights filling silence with only my thoughts and TV drama gets pretty lonely.

In times of solitude I wonder if I’m the problem- is this harder because of something I’m doing or failing to do? But the more I think about it, the more I’m realizing- they’re just kids. And they’re good kids. But even with good kids, parenting is hard. And it only becomes harder when you have to go solo for a few days. The problems are all the same, it’s just much easier to become overwhelmed when half of the parenting team is missing. Extra kudos to all the single moms and military wives raising families-I don’t know how you do it. But allow me to go back to the beginning: I am lucky. And life is full of compromise. At the end of the day, you make decisions that are best for your family, but no matter what you choose, it gets hard. Truthfully, it’s not all bad. It’s just not all easy either.

Own It

This past weekend, my husband and I went on a little getaway to Mackinac Island.  For Jon, it’s equal parts work conference and weekend away.  For me, it’s quality time with Jon, a little sleeping in, room service, and Golden Girls.  Saturday evening calls for a nice reception on the porch of The Grand Hotel, followed by a full-service sit-down meal inside.  It’s a great excuse to dress up, so a few weeks ago I began searching for something new to wear, because, why not?

My search led to me to Poshmark, where I found a beautiful new-to-me dress.  As an added bonus, there were photos of the Kate and Megan wearing the same one.  It arrived and let’s just say the fit was less than ideal.  It zipped, but only without a bra.  And y’all know there are very few things I can wear in public sans bra (namely a bathing suit).  But with a whole 2 weeks out from the getaway, I held out hope.  I’ve started a new fitness routine and have tried making healthier choices.  Down a few pounds, I figured surely in a couple weeks’ time I could drop a few more and the dress would look great.

Fast forward to last Thursday evening, packing my clothes for the trip.  Moment of truth – I tried on the dress.  Well, shit, I forgot I was supposed to stick with my regime.  Actually, it did zip, even with a bra, but it didn’t look great.  It felt a little tight in my tummy and bottom and there were definite remnants of a baby bump.  And y’all know that ship has SAILED.  Like sayonara, ain’t happenin’, don’t even go there, 5 kids would send me to the looney bin, SAILED.  Now, despite the fact that my kids think they came out of my belly button, there is no medical reason my belly should show evidence of my children more than 2 years postpartum.  Hopeful that there was still another 48 hours before I actually had to wear the dress, I packed it anyway - alongside an old magic standby that seems to always fit. 

Saturday, after a “light” room service breakfast and terrible salad at lunch (thankfully the Bloody Mary washed it down), I retreated back to the room to get ready for our dinner.  Trying on the dress, it did feel a little better than when I tried at home, but I still had what I considered a noticeable bump.  But I really wanted to wear the dress – it was black lace, very soft, and I bought new earrings to wear with it. 

I almost didn’t wear the dress. Then I thought, screw it.

A few years ago, I remember seeing an interview with Jennifer Garner. I’m not sure if I remember what she said so well because of her message, or because Jon says she’d play me in a movie.  Either way, I remember her talking about public speculation over a baby bump.  When she stated that there was a bump, the audience immediately began buzzing with excitement – until she interrupted them.  She said, there was a bump, because she’s had 3 kids.  There will ALWAYS be a bump! 

Standing in the hotel room, I figured, who am I to turn my back on Jennifer’s wisdom?!  I channeled my inner Jennifer and said, SCREW IT.  This belly carried 4 kids.  So what if it’s not as flat as I’d like?  So what if my belly creates a bump almost as prominent as my chest?  Why do I care what other people think anyway?  Would my husband care when I took it off?  Not a chance – even with the accompanying stretchmarks. 

I made the decision to own it - a woman’s body does incredible things, and this one is mine. I liked the dress, and I wore it with confidence.  I allowed myself to breathe, not suck in, and screw what anyone else thought.

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Now, was I still incredibly flattered when another woman complimented me?  Yes.  Do I know or care if she got a side view?  Nope.  Do I love how these pictures turned out?  No.  But not because my belly is sticking out.  But because of hotel lighting and a photographer whose enthusiasm for taking my pictures was less than ideal. So please don’t tell Jon I used my mirror selfies instead!  But mostly I was disappointed only because I forgot to get a picture with my handsome date.

Am I in the process of starting a regime to be more fit?  Yes.  Did I eat Oreos after the kids went to bed?  Also yes.  It’s okay to want to get more fit.  But love yourself in the process.  So what if my stomach stuck out a little more than I’d prefer?  I wanted to wear the damn dress!  Ultimately, I adopted a new mantra I adapted from my friends at the US Postal Service - if it zips, it fits. Amen.

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Embracing Change

Let me tell you a little story about yesterday.  Well, first let’s back up.  In February, we got a new puppy, Sadie.  She was part belated Christmas present, part Jon’s hunting dog, and wholly terrible at house training.  Long story short, eventually we threw in the towel, agreeing she’d be better off a barn/garage dog.  But just this week, I was starting to feel pretty bad about it.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that we lost an entire litter of kittens last week or that I started reading “The Art of Racing in the Rain” and it’s told from the perspective of a dog.  Or maybe it just really pulled at my heart strings when I would catch her sitting so nicely on the porch, with her sad yellow eyes, peeking in at us.  No matter the reason, truth be told, I really wanted her to be an inside dog – if she’d just stop sh*tting on the floor! SO, back to yesterday.  I decided to let her in for a bit just to test the waters.  And my lap dog, Annabel, went batsh*t crazy.  She started walking so oddly I seriously thought she was having a seizure.  I took her outside and half expected her to just keel over and die.  But miraculously, her symptoms disappeared as soon as I put Sadie away in her kennel.  Take it from Annabel – change is hard.

However, we all know it’s an inevitable, necessary part of life.  No one would truly grow without any change.  Big, small, expected, sudden – change comes in all forms.  The past few weeks, I don’t think I had a single conversation with another mom that didn’t include one of us mentioning how quickly summer has passed us by.  There’s just something about those summers with your kids – they’re hard to let go.  And it wasn’t just among the stay-at-home moms either.  Working or not, summer is mostly filled with enjoying the outdoors and some much needed time away. 

All these conversations got me thinking though.  In another couple of months – we’ll have no idea what happened to the vibrant color, refreshing air, and cider donuts of the fall.  Life gets away from us.  Fall brings back to school and youth sports, and before you know it the holiday season is before us – and not just at Hobby Lobby. 

As we reminisce the warm summer days and ponder how the weeks went by so quickly, we’re still enjoying the cooler day at the park.  Still catching up with friends and sharing excitement at the school open house.  We are present, enjoying today.  Because we only have this day once.  I’m going to do my best to embrace the change.  The change of the season, the change of routine, the change of laundry.  Find new ways to connect with my family.  Maybe create a fall bucket list.  Dust off my sweaters and slow down.  Did we enjoy those summer days and are we sad to let them go?  Absolutely.  Do we long for the summer to linger just a little longer?  Probably.  Come November, will I sigh and wonder when the leaves changed color as they’re falling to the ground?  Perhaps.  And I’ll remind myself that I’m supposed to embrace the change.  And the crippling cold.  And the frozen snot.  Ugh.  I’m gonna need some time to work on that!

While changing seasons are both predictable and minor, relatively speaking, it’s also got me thinking of the changes that seem to happen right before our eyes.  The slow burn of our kids growing older. Through the daily grind of dishes, laundry, homework, and activities, the days of helping wash hands and near constant chaos will seem to disappear overnight.  As I write this, I find myself glancing at my kids up late on a Friday night, lounging watching a movie and playing with babies, and try to picture how much different life will be in 6 or 8 years - with a couple teenagers and kids who don’t fit all packed together on the same couch.  Those days will be full of changes and new challenges, of that I’m sure.  I can only hope my mommy heart will be strong enough to embrace the change then, too.     

As for now, we will do our best to make the most of the change around us. Because it’s FALL y’all!  And stay tuned for Sadie updates - we’ve been thrown a curve ball already!

Happy 11th Anniversary

Today we celebrate 11 years of marriage.  The reality of 11 years and 4 children together is that for the most part, it’s just another day.  We’re putting off celebrations for another couple days since the boys had 4-H tonight.  So while Jon took the boys, I’m holding down the fort with the girls.  Teamwork at its finest.

While holding down said fort, I decided to clean the laundry room.  Mostly because I flooded it the other day and it’s been driving me bonkers ever since (pro tip: don’t multitask).  In doing so, I realized how great a representation a laundry room really is of your life.  I mean, show me a mom who hasn’t said the likes of laundry is life: she doesn’t exist.  My laundry room makes it quite apparent a lot of freaking people live here.  And it’s messy.  Much like life.  As I wiped the washer down, I noted the cycles: heavy duty, normal, delicate, express, soak.  Throughout a marriage, you’re sure to need each of these cycles.  In the past 11 years, we’ve been very fortunate.  Life runs mostly on the “normal” cycle.  At our house, that’s a lot like throwing everything in with a color catcher and hoping for the best.  But in 11 years of marriage, we’ve found sometimes our load requires a new cycle.  There’s the heavy duty stuff, namely losing two pregnancies. It requires leaning on one another and knowing that God has a plan.  And being grateful you have one another.  The delicate cycle – Jon would probably say that’s best used monthly.  Then there’s express, the cycle I used this morning when Jon needed one shirt in particular and you guessed it – he was out of his favorite underwear - express is how we sometimes live our lives.  Our plates, much like the laundry baskets, are piled high.  On-the-go, fast-paced, always a child involved in this or that, little time to breathe…. SOAK.  I think that’s the cycle we should aim to use most.  Soak in the moments.  Soak in one another. 

While I cleaned, I asked Alexa to play Sir Rosevelt’s “Something bout you”.  It came on the radio the other day and when Jon turned it up and told the kids it reminded him of their mom, I made sure to listen carefully.  It warmed my heart and made me smile on the inside.  Because through the daily grind, my hair goes unwashed (much like the laundry), I run around like crazy feeling like death warmed over and to think he could look at me and still feel like there’s just somethin’ bout {me} – it makes me feel pretty special.

I’m so lucky to have found the one who, no matter the cycle, keeps life running smoothly.  He's the one who grounds me, calms me, calls out my crazy, and loves me no matter what.  Through thick and thin – normal to heavy duty – I know he’d never hang me out to dry.  There’s no one else I’d rather do laundry with.  And y’all know there’s a lot of it! 

Now it’s off to wrap the headphones I found in the laundry room that Jon “lost” oh, maybe a year ago?!  Happy Anniversary!  Hey, at least I know he’ll like them 😉 

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Toddler Moms

Earlier this week I was talking with a few other moms at school.  Somehow the subject came up and we unanimously agreed if our last child had been our first, we would only have 1 child.  I don’t know what it is about that last one, but man oh man, it seems I’m not the only one.  Now when that youngest child is also a two-year-old toddler: you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

Being two is hard.  You’re new to the toddler stage, trying to do things on your own, figure out what’s right and wrong, and how to express yourself.  As a mom, I know this.  But I also know it’s really hard to be a toddler mom too.  We’re less than 2 months in to the terrible twos and my days are often filled with a toddler who has taken a liking to spitting, hitting, sh*tting on the floor, and added “never!” to her favorite word repertoire.  I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to survive.  And this ain’t my first rodeo – lest not forget – she is my FOURTH child.  I should be a pro by now. Cue L.C.S.: Last Child Syndrome.  This is the only thing that makes sense.  And yes, I made it up.  It’s how I reconcile this daily “sass” with the adorable little girl who declares “I wuv you SHO MUCH” and so sweetly sings the “I love you, you  love me, we’re happy famuhwee” Barney song.  The same one who makes my heart split in two when she cries is going to give me ALL.THE.GRAY.HAIRS.  If I live that long.  She’s giving me a run for my money, and as I’ve previously established – I. Don’t. Run. 

Earlier this week, she insisted on wearing only one shoe at her brother’s baseball game.  For all I tried, she absolutely refused to put on her other shoe.  So she walked around the dugout and lawn with one shoe and one bare foot.  Later that day, at a different baseball game, she decided not to wear a shirt.  The only reason she wasn’t a complete spectacle is because my friend sat her on her lap and wrapped her in a blanket.  Pick your battles, they say.

Yesterday we decided to take the whole family to see the new Aladdin movie.  In the middle of the movie, Tenley decided she wanted “white miiiilk!” and she thought everyone there should know.  I tried to calm her down and wrestle her back onto my lap.  She got frustrated and head butted me so hard in the nose, I’m still not sure she didn’t break it.  All I’m sayin’ is I heard a crack, my nose was numb for a solid 15 minutes, and I can both feel and see a slight bump on one side. Her head really packs some power y’all.

Fast forward to today.  I went to a friends’ before volunteering at school and we decided to take a walk.  We came across a garage sale, so I let the girls venture out of the stroller.  She absolutely refused to get buckled back in.  I finally resorted to calling Jon on speakerphone.  After a stern, yet still not yelling, “TENLEY. SIT. DOWN” she sat down like it was her idea all along.  And yes, I realize this is totally ridiculous and mildly embarrassing, but hey, it worked.  After our walk,  I left the girls with my friend to head into school.  When I got back, Aubrey was quick to tattle, that Tenley had said a naughty word. After a short inquiry with my friend, I learned Tenley called her an asshole (repeatedly, actually) and hit her when she put her in a time out.  Y’all – I GIVE.      

I’m currently sitting on my back porch after throwing in the towel on naptime.  She’s upstairs playing by herself in her room and at this point, that’s good enough for me.  Honestly, I consider it a win that she yelled down that she pooped IN her pull-up.  I was more than happy to change her and let her keep playing with her kitchen.  If only she could actually prepare our dinner up there, I’d really have a good thing going.

It’s a phase, I know.  And she’s testing the waters.  I’m the one drowning, in case that’s not clear.  The other day at the dentist, the assistant informed me if she was chewing on stuff and a little crabby lately, it’s because her molar is coming in.  Somehow I don’t think that’s what’s making her sh*t on the floor, but who can really say?!

If you happen to be one of those moms that never had a terrible toddler - I commend you.  And I also hate you.  If you’re a toddler mom, God Bless You.  And find yourself a friend who gets you.  One who doesn’t get mad or embarrass you when your kid misbehaves while in her care.  Preferably one that knows you’re joking when you state you’re going to add vodka to your tea before baseball, but still asks if you did when you meet her there.  If you have toddler mom friends: check on them – we are not okay.  But we will be.  In 10 years or less.  We hope.

 

 

These are the good ole days

10:36pm.  Less than an hour after a tag-team effort finally got the monster to sleep.  Finally, just the two of us.  The water in the sink is running full blast at a best effort to dissolve the remnants of a forgotten sippy cup, and there’s an enormous load of laundry in the washer because I got so behind, Jon threw in a load for me.  And because he’s probably out of his favorite kind of underwear.  Man, it was a long ass day.  One that required a 30-minute call to my best friend so we could find the humor in the literal shit show in my life this afternoon.  A long day evident by the cracked open adult beverage next to the sink as I tried to figure out why the dishwasher kept beeping and flashing “LC”.   But standing at the sink, trying to finish the last of the nightly chores, it hit me: man, there’s no one else I’d rather stay up late and do laundry with. 

Lately, as the days are getting longer, bedtimes are pushed back as we can finally enjoy the spring weather here in Michigan.  Many nights I’ve been finishing prepping or cleaning up dinner as mini baseball games are carried out in the backyard.  Or maybe it’s fish being caught in the pond.  Or maybe I’m just witnessing the clean-up effort outside of ALL.THE.SHOES.  Seriously, how many FEET do we have in this house?!  No matter the activity, I find myself enjoying the view.  Looking out at the kids playing with one another or tossing the ball with their dad.  Sometimes I join them, or we head out on a walk, but truly I’m happy to wipe the counters or do the dishes with the sounds of laughter and the ball making contact wafting through the screen door. 

Now don’t get me wrong.  Many a days, this nightly routine serves as a reprieve from an otherwise difficult day.  But good days or bad, these are the good ole days.  The ones spent playing outside, riding bikes and tricycles along the sidewalk, or watching them wrestle on the trampoline.  Eventually, there will be an absence of ride on cars, no toys to pick up before mowing the lawn, no trampoline to tie down during a storm.  When we’re old and gray, sitting on our back porch, these days are the ones we’ll talk about. 

And there’s no one else I’d rather rock on the porch and reminisce with. But for those following along - – he went to bed at 11:03pm. So predictable ;). After confirming he was out of underwear and if I could switch the laundry to the dryer, that would be nice. I’m not entirely sure I’ll have clean underwear in the morning, but I think I’ll keep him anyway.

Happy Mother's Day

May 12, 2019 – Mother’s Day.  A whole day dedicated to moms.  All over social media today I saw matching outfits and loving praise for mothers.  Words of thanks to moms, and to husbands and children for their efforts today in celebrating motherhood.  And it’s all beautiful.  But let me throw you the curve ball of honesty: it’s still another day as a mom.  Good, bad, or otherwise.  Don’t get me wrong, I am all about Mother’s Day, and I am in no way throwing shade – I just thought I’d show a little glimpse into the reality of my motherhood, and another day in the life.  Because celebrations or not – we’re still momming today.  And momming is hard y’all.

Three out of four kids had a sleepover at Grandma’s last night with their cousins, so my early riser was out of the house.  Because we didn’t have church until 11:30, I decided to forego my alarm and slept in a bit.  As per the usual lately, Tenley had joined us in our bed mid-night.  I woke up to Tenley playing the video on my phone of her confused little toddler voice asking, “I have a penis?... (No, that’s not what it’s called) Aubwee have a penis?...”  Following that video, she played the one where Aubrey refers to the people who canceled her T-ball game with a choice word, so she then lay in bed repeating “ah-hole”.  Although we had plans to join my family for breakfast before church, I wanted to stay in bed just a little longer and finally convinced Tenley to stop playing videos and busy herself making me some breakfast in her kitchen.  She returned with the wooden salad dressing and sugar, plastic peas in a pan, and the end of a toy caterpillar.  A truly gourmet breakfast in bed.  Thankfully those sticky buns were still waiting at my parents’.

In addition to Mother’s Day, we also had the pleasure of celebrating my oldest’s first communion today, so we were entertaining our families at home after church.  After breakfast we rushed home to finish lunchtime preparations and get ready.  With too much on my mind, I got dressed last as everyone else was ready to head out the door.  I put on my dress and decided to lotion my legs quickly - only to find that I had forgotten to shave them.  I remedied that by throwing on a pair of pantyhose, and it only took me 2 pairs to find one without a run – hallelujah!  As I bent to put my heels on in the garage, I realized that my dress had seemingly shrunk on the hanger.  I hate it when that happens.  Had I been going to the club (have I ever done that?), the length would not have been a problem – but in God’s house, I figured I should at least be able to bend over and pick up a child without a free show.  After trying the only pair of slacks I still own – only to find they too had shrunk, I settled on a dress that must be magic because it actually still fit the way I remembered. 

Our first communion celebrations went off without a hitch.  After everyone left, I left the dishes and managed to take a nap with Tenley.  I don’t even remember the last time I took a nap that wasn’t in the passenger seat of a car.  I woke a couple hours later wondering what I missed.  Tenley joined the kids outside and Aubrey and I snagged bowls of ice cream without anyone noticing we were spoiling our dinner.

As moms with never-ending to-do lists, I decided to try to get a few things done tonight.  I spent at least 30 solid minutes looking for my laptop charger – to no avail.  Frustrated, after a long week, I came unraveled and cried.  Over a laptop charger.  How ridiculous.  Worse yet, it soured my mood for at least twice as long and I was crabby and irritable at my kids on Mother’s Day.

I’m {clearly} not a perfect mom.  I didn’t have a perfect breakfast in bed, I take videos of my kids using inappropriate language and try really hard not to laugh.  I let my emotions get the best of me.  Even on a day meant to celebrate motherhood, life is not perfect. 

In the midst of it all today, I found myself grateful.  Especially grateful for my kids, when I texted a friend my prayer that it be her last Mother’s Day without a child of her own.  And incredibly grateful for a mom who can be here with us today, when I have a dear friend who can’t say the same.  While a day of celebration for many, today highlights hardships for many others.  I think it’s important to remember, whether your celebrations were grand or not, as moms, our simple existence is cause to be grateful.  So it’s okay if your day wasn’t perfect and no one made you breakfast or did your dishes.  But I hope you took some time to be grateful and to celebrate all that you are.  Even if all of you no longer fits in your favorite lace dress.