Whenever you see a status in social media pop up tagged with #blessed, it’s always crap.
“I love my perfect children and we spent the day learning about Socrates. They are so smart! #blessed”
Or,
“The baby just loves avocados and quinoa! #blessed”
And,
“My little helper was tidy and calm when we worked on our papier-mache art project! #blessed”
See how that gets old fast? There is no way that happens in real homes. It’s more like:
“Got halfway through The Very Hungry Caterpillar before my daughter chucked the book at my head. Maybe she’ll learn to read before college. #insane”
Or,
“The baby will only eat Puffs. At least they have vitamins in them. #insane”
And,
“I am wearing papier-mache and the kids left the craft table ten minutes ago. #insane”
A pretty accurate depiction of me in the morning.
Maybe it’s all a matter of perspective. I had what I would call a “#blessed” moment this morning, but it looked more like this:
*Kids enter the room with a cinnamon roll for me and three for themselves*
Kids: Mom! We brought you breakfast!! Let’s eat on your bed!
The Boy: And I brought Humphrey’s Book of FUN-FUN-FUN, so we can do puzzles!
The Girl (at the same time): I know you don’t like icing…
(Side note: I don’t? Well, maybe they are looking out for my love handles)
The Girl: … so I gave most of it to myself.
(Ding, ding, ding! I think I understand what happened with the icing and it’s not an act of kindness by my little princess)
The Boy: Ooh! Let’s figure out what the mixed up words are…. Mom! What word is this?
The Girl (climbing into my lap): Okay, pretend I’m your little baby. My name is Rose, but I’m not born yet.
Me: Okay. Aw.. baby Rose…
The Girl: No, Mommy. Don’t talk. I’m still in your tummy. I’ll tell you when you can talk.
Me: Got it.
The Girl rolls, squirms, and kicks me in the face prepping for her big entrance as baby Rose.
The Boy: Hey, Mom? When do hamsters need oiling?
The Girl: Ga ga! (pretends to walk and falls over)
The Boy:… Mom! Listen!
Me: Right. When do hamsters need to be oiled?
The Girl rights herself and crawls into my lap.
The Boy: … When they squeak! … Aw, Humphrey. He’s a funny hamster.
Me: Yes. Yes he is.
This goes on for another 15 minutes before the kids decide the world is more exciting downstairs. I think the fact the TV is there has a lot to do with that.
When they leave, I am exhausted and grateful. I love those kids and their high energy, even though they seem to take all of mine when they go.
So, yes. I am #blessed, but I am also #tired.
Ponies and Martinis 