Husband:”Put him to bed later. I mean, it’s Friday night. Maybe he’ll sleep late in the morning.” Personally, I’m calling his bluff. By 5:50 Saturday morning, I’d been drooled on, slapped accidentally, and coerced into counting to five 400 times per the directions of a forty-three pound toddler. Listen up, new moms. I’m not a spring chicken. I’ve been around the block two times before. We ” started over” so it’s all new again. Your tiny newborn with the sweet baby breath is going to be a rambunctious toddler with a mouthful of teeth and sinus drainage breathing right in your face. Yep. It’s happening.

The conversation was as follows (in my bed at 5:50 am):

“Go back to bed, little man.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Santa brings toys to big boys who stay in their beds.”

(Hysterical laughter)

“Then be still and go to sleep with me.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Well, one can’t argue with that, right?

Need a side gig to pay for all that plastic under the tree this Christmas? I’m going to start charging a cover charge to come in the bathroom. I’m not kidding. Last night, I was trying to take a simple 10 minute shower. That’s usually the only time I can be alone. My daughter came into the bathroom (it was legit because I needed to ask her something). Next, the toddler. Finally, the husband came in looking for the toddler. By this time. I was hoping someone had brought chips and dip.

Fast-forward to this morning. I tried to sneak to the bathroom and got caught red-handed. “”Momma? You potty?” ”

“Yes, baby. Can you go see daddy?”

“No. I stay with you.”

“Of course you do, Dear. Mommies are never alone.”

All joking aside, it is the highest honor to be called “mommy” by my three blessings. We moms get tired, frustrated, and question our parenting at times. When I hear, “I love you, Mommy.” it’s like God is saying to me, “See? You’re doing what you’re called to do.”

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