I see everyone and their sister fired up on Instagram, doing all the goals and resolutions and “fresh starts,” while I’m sitting here, still in my jammies, with yet another kid who was up all night puking, feeling more behind on life than ever.
As a mom, I’m pretty much coasting by on little snippets of encouragement and hope.
When the conversation inevitably turns to a detailed rundown of all their children’s activities, sports, and lessons, I nod my head in what I hope is a sign of empathy and understanding. But the truth is, I don’t chime in on those conversations, because my kids aren’t in any activities of any kind.
Because if you want the truth, Christmas has gotten completely out of control at the Brusie household, I am sorry to admit.
Eight years later, and we are just now looking to move out of that “starter home.” And the process has been more emotional than I ever would have anticipated.
It was in that moment, looking at that piece of ripped paper, when I realized how very wrong a marriage can go.
I am realizing now what I am trading for our “dream” home, and it is a hard realization to face.
I can’t help but fantasize about what the world is like for people who actually get to take a sick day when they are sick.
I’ve spent a long, long time wishing I was different. Looking back, it breaks my heart.
My entire personal and professional life is in that tiny little handheld machine, and it’s both freed and trapped me forever.
Fireworks at home is a bad idea.. and I can tell you why.
This post is sponsored by Pampers. All opinions are our own.
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Men of the world, you need to be an advocate for the woman in your life.
Getting “help” in my day-to-day life as a mom honestly feels impossible.
Now there’s no need to get out of bed to make that cup of joe.
I’ll never be the mother of “boys,” watching two little men tumble across my living room.