I see you. 

I see you struggling to hold it all together. Trying to finish the laundry, get the dinner dishes washed, floors swept up, kids bathed, homework done. 

I see you working well into the night through the tears of exhaustion and never feeling that anyone notices all you do for them and wondering if it’s even worth it. 

I see you struggling to be the first one up so the kids have breakfast waiting for them, lunches made, clothes out, coats and backpacks and shoes waiting near the door so they aren’t inconvenienced to have to look for anything themselves . . . because it’s just easier that way. 

I see you rushing to get the screaming kids out the door and on the school bus without any major meltdowns so you can hurry and get the morning cleaned up because you have to get a shower, get dressed, and get to your appointments or work. 

I see the tired in your eyes, I see the tears you are holding back, I see the strength and the weakness behind the fake smile. I see the worry and wonder that is swirling around your mind. 

Am I doing well enough? Did I show them love this morning through the arguments? Did they go to school wondering if Mom still loves them? Why did I have to make them cry? Again? Why can’t I just be the calm to their rage like I swear I’m going to be each morning? Why can’t I ever keep my word to myself? Why? Why is it so hard to keep my cool? 

Mama, can I tell you something? 

You’re not alone in this struggle called parenthood. We are all in this together and we all have mornings like this. We aren’t perfect and we aren’t supposed to be. We are learning and growing just as much as our kids are. We are teaching our kids that it’s OK to be human and mess up. It’s OK to lose our cool and have to try again. And I can assure you, it’s OK to need to apologize to our kiddos for losing it. 

Most importantly, realize that even in our hard times, on our worst days, our kids still love us and although they might not say it, they appreciate us and think we are biggest and baddest superheros around (because, we are). 

So, tonight as you melt into your bed, give yourself a little pat on the back because not only did you survive another day, you kept your tiny little humans alive and well another day, too. Cut yourself some slack because we are all just doing the best we can. 

Here’s to tomorrow and another chance to get it right . . . 

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page

Shawna Lonesky

My name is Shawna Lonesky, I’m 36 years young, I have an 17-year-old daughter, a 14-year-old son, and I’m raising my 6-year-old special needs adopted grandson.