By Miranda Morris 
Today was one of those days all moms experience. It’s hard to breathe, tears are streaming, and the whines of a non-sleeping baby blend with distant YouTube garbage into an uneasy symphony.
My baby has not napped for more than 30 minutes all day, following a restless night. Experience whispers teething. Anxiety screams he hates you. The older kids are watching screens again as the immense weight of guilt tap dances on my chest. Today, like countless afternoons this summer, I’m tethered to our fussy 5-month-old, unable to give my older two the mental and physical stimulation I know they’re lacking. It’s safe to say that going from two to three kids is as difficult as everyone warned it would be.
The dishes in the sink are full. There are piles of items waiting to be added to the suitcases I have to finish packing before our upcoming vacation. At the foot of my bed sits a laundry basket full of clean clothes that have gone unfolded for two days. A pound of ground beef sits in the fridge taunting me with its expiration date, daring me to try and cook a well-balanced meal for my family tonight. My husband snores loudly from the other room in a familiar limbo between midnight shifts while rooms in every direction claw at my eyes pleading for organization.
I sit on my bed with the shades drawn while a mix of baby drool and tears (his and mine) pool on my dress–the same dress I wore yesterday. Every hour my brain is an Olympics of thought.
Why won’t the baby sleep? Will my daughter be further behind in first grade because we’re not doing enough reading this summer? How can I get my son to be more engaged during learning? How can I get them to eat healthier? How old is too old for a boy to wear a Pull-Up at night? Do I have everything all five of us will need for a whole week away from home? When will I fold those clothes? When should I implement the back-to-school sleep schedule? How can I grow a few extra arms?
And for many of us, this is just the trailer.
Today, I have to accept that I will be an average mom. I will not answer all the questions in my head. I will simply survive the day.
Some days, I get to be the mom who cleans. The mom whose sink is sparkling and empty beside smooth countertops unburdened by toddler crumbs. Other days, I get to be the fun mom who plays LEGO video games, Candyland, and Pretty Pretty Princess. Sometimes, I even get to be the teacher mom, beaming with pride as the kids reach new milestones and unlock new skills. But I never get to be all of these at once.
In fact, most days I feel like I’m living the Stepford Wives edition of split, trying to navigate being a different version of myself each day. What I have learned, though, as a stay-at-home mom of three, is that week to week, all of these versions of myself always add up to my best.
I show up each morning, let the chips fall, and play whatever role I fit into at the given moment. The dishes and laundry wait for me as they always do. I smile through the tears and the tired, knowing that everything in this life changes like the weather.
I know how often you can go from crying in frustration one second to crying tears of pride the next as that thing you’ve been trying to teach your kid for forever finally clicks; from sighing in hopelessness at a restless baby to feeling the heat of love electrifying your entire being as they finally fall asleep on your chest; from feeling defeated by messy rooms to laying your head down at night satisfied knowing you’ll make your coffee in a clean one tomorrow.
It could be argued that any life is about give and take, but this is especially true for motherhood. We give them life and they take ours–all of our minutes, hours, days. Yet, for all we give, we are endless and infinite, constantly renewed by all of the bright spots woven into the fabric of our lives together–the belly laughs, the genuine moments of gratitude, the noticeable progress.
The truth is all any of us can do is hope that, like my son finally learning to write his name after months of trying, they will someday feel all the love that pulled us through our toughest days because we kept trying too.
There are lots of qualities that add up to a good mom, but in my humble opinion, none are more important than some good, old-fashioned grit and persistence. If you just keep coming to the table, eventually everyone will eat.
by Mikala Albertson 
by Deidra Darst 
by Megan Kewaza 
