CHAOS TO COMFORT · NOTES FROM MOM LIFE
I don’t know what sound my couch makes when I sit down, but apparently only my three boys can hear it.
I can stand in the kitchen folding a towel, putting away dishes, or eating a piece of toast over the sink, and everyone is fine. The second I sit down? Someone needs a snack. Someone can’t find the toy he’s holding. And someone is suddenly very concerned about what I’m doing with that blanket.
I’m sitting, buddy. Or at least I was.
The part that wears me out
The funniest part is that half the time, when I finally get back to the couch, I can’t even remember what I sat down to do. Was I going to drink my coffee? Answer a text? Stare at the wall for a minute? Honestly, staring at the wall sounds lovely.
And that’s the part I don’t always know how to explain when someone asks why I’m tired. There might be no big thing I can point to. It’s the twenty little things I started, stopped, and came back to. It’s walking into a room for my own cup of coffee and walking out with three other people’s cups instead.
Taking the minute
I’m getting better at saying, “I’ll help you in a minute,” and then actually taking the minute. It feels a little silly to call that progress, but if you’ve ever stood up to fetch a snack while holding your first hot sip of coffee, you get it.
So today, I’m going to sit down while my coffee is still warm. And if someone asks what I’m doing, I’m going to tell them.
“Mommy’s on her break.”
We’ll see how long it takes before someone asks if they can have a bite of it.
