Tonight my daughters ate Costco for dinner. Not merely ate at. They ate. As in they ate Costco samples for dinner. But don’t worry. They sorta drank milk. I bought them a $1.65 ice cream to share, too.
Sometimes, being a Mom is tough.
Too often I find that I have a really difficult time navigating everything on my To Do List. There are times when I am with it and on my A-game. But as of late, I’m barely hanging on.
I had all these great plans for the start of 2015. I was going to journal. And write letters to my kids. I was going to be a better housekeeper and stay on top of the laundry. I was going to cook meals and freeze them. And frame their artwork (instead of stealthily throwing it away). I was going to go to bed earlier and exercise more. I was going to be a better wife. Have a more organized household.
I was just going to be better.
But here I am, feeding my children samples from Costco on a Thursday night for two reasons: 1) we don’t have any milk and we might as well pick up a few other things, too and 2) I just don’t care anymore.
That’s actually not true. I do care. I care deeply. But at this moment, I’m raising the white flag. I’m surrendering to the end of the year madness. To the can’t-get-it-togetherness of my current state. Costco samples are a break from the family meals of the past three nights: grilled cheese and PBJ. A friend of mine gently reminded me (as I was lamenting about my inability to adequately feed my children) that at least they are being fed. And I guess I could look at it that way.
I casually boasted a few weeks ago to my husband that we pretty much have it all together.
To which he laughed. Out loud. In my face.