Lord knows I’m trying


What am I doing? Seriously….. what am I doing? It’s the question of the day, every.single.day. Why did I think, for even a second, that I could manage a full-time job, 1000 kids, keep my house Pintrest worthy, make friends, keep my old friends, not get fucking fat and be a totally unleaveable life partner ALL AT THE SAME TIME?…. and PLEASE tell me how the rest of you are doing it because clearly I missed the boat on this “#killinthisworkingmomzenlife” thing. I feel like keep so many roles and I’m basically failing at all of them.

When I was a kid, my mom worked. She still took us to the river every other day. She coached our soccer team. She helped raise our pigs for 4H. She played various creepy characters at our school Halloween carnivals. Our house was clean… not like CLEAN, clean, but we didn’t have rats. And she had her friends over ALMOST everyday for drinks or food or dancing. I’m not kidding, we had ACTUAL dance parties in my living room. I know women, with babies, who run their own businesses (employees and all)… and they still manage to leave town for “Girls Weekend”…. What’s a “Girls Weekend”? Are our kids allowed to come? Because I have a schedule to keep.

I have girlfriends who manage every single bit of the day-to-day operation of their home. Cleaning…done. Cooking?…done. Hot yoga?!..Namaste. And they still have hours to catch up on Pretty Little Liars or learn macramé.

Want a sneak peek into my life? Today I loaded the washing machine then realized we were out of detergent. So I put water in it to get just enough out to was my clothes. Then after the cycle was done, I notice the NEW detergent… sitting right next to the empty one. So I rewashed.  I don’t even know if I’m the one who bought the new detergent. Probably not. It was likely Rigo, because he is a saint. Maybe I would’ve notice the new detergent if I wasn’t also cooking egg whites (because I’m trying to lose weight. Don’t ask why, dude, I don’t know) and being screamed at by my son because the dog keeps running of with his train tracks that are scattered across my living room floor that he WILL NOT LET ME PICK UP. For real, they’ve been there 5 weeks now. So I had to chase her down to retrieve the precious track. Do you know how hard it is to catch a 1-year-old German Shepherd who knows she’s in trouble….? About as hard as it sounds. Oh and I burned the egg whites anyway.

Now, just put that scenario on repeat. For the rest of your life. If there was a hell it would just be me running back and forth from my kitchen to laundry room… burning eggs and ruining my delicates. (lol, jk I don’t have delicates)

I read last week that the key to success was to NOT multitask. To NOT multitask. I’m going to just assume that the person who wrote this is a man. Women are wired to multitask and for the most part, ya’ll are killing it. I see you ladies taking on new challenges, reinventing yourselves…. having babies without drugs. I saw a video of an old friend participating in a group dance… with her baby strapped to her chest. synchronized dancing and quality time with the baby? Mom win.

 I took a swig of an empty coffee mug, twice, in the last ten minutes.

I had one task to accomplish today (because I’m ignoring the dishes and the entire front half of my house). Go to the gym. I left after 15 minutes because the baby pooped INSIDE the playland in the daycare. When I come to change his diaper, the girl at the front desk handed me a bag  with my sons poo covered pants inside. I brought extra diapers and wipes because I thought I had my shit together. I didn’t bring extra clothes for the baby because I don’t ACTUALLY have my shit together. Apparently, NO PANTS=NO SERVICE at Mountainside Fitness.

So I put the shit bag in my #momlife bag and left, grabbed my daughter from school and headed home to put new clothes on Roman and head back to the gym. On the way, baby boy had another blowout, WITH NO PANTS BUFFER, in his carseat. Sigh* I’ll fast foward through that mess.

I repacked my #momlife bag, headed to the gym and restarted my workout. I kept getting wiffs of poo and just figured “Maybe I have some on my shirt? Who knows” Luckily, I don’t get close enough to people to smell me. It was until after I left, I realized, I left the bag with my son’s soiled pants IN the #momlife bag that I carried around THE WHOLE TIME.

So while you all are being lady bosses, making bread from scratch, dressing your kids better than I dress myself, building entertainment centers out of old water bottles or whatever…. I’ll just be over here… with my shit bag… washing the same load of laundry, until one of you comes over and shows me how to be a working/playing/crafting/dance party having-mom.

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