Son, here’s the thing. Sometimes come 9pm mama is just flat out done.

So when you peer down from that top bunk bed eye to eye with me and question the end of your day with the everlasting, “but whyyyyy?,” a small world flashes before my eyes.

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It’s been over 12 hours since I woke you up over and over again. I’ve found lost back packs and missing shoes and matching socks (sometimes). I’ve cooked breakfast sausages or poured cereal and delivered you on time and well loved and (mostly) without shouting to school. And then I’ve blinked and picked you up at school again.

We’ve been to the playground and I’ve pushed your baby sister on the swings. I’ve emptied mulch out of her crocs for what feels like one hundred million times and I’ve remembered the bottled water but always forgotten the snacks.

You’ve run and scootered and played soccer with your friends and I’ve pushed and pulled and cajoled to get you both out of there and off to pick up your middle brother from preschool. I’ve parked and unbuckled car seats and opened doors and pushed school bells and signed check out sheets and gathered up all the art papers and pencil drawings in the whole wide world while slinging your sister under one wailing arm and the car keys and my bag under the other.

I’ve loaded you all up again and driven you home and answered a bajillion “why?” questions and finally turned up the radio and declared it “singing time.” The closest to quiet time I can get between the three of you.

Your blink-of-an-eye days age me. How they’re all marathon and sprint all rolled up into one. And how I feel them in my greying hair roots and tired bones and stretch-marked heart.

….if this sounds familiar -keep reading with me over at the What to Expect When You’re Expecting blog, won’t you. Just click here.

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