Right now, I’m sitting on my bed using my daughter’s ice cream cone pillow as a desk. My messy bun is about two loose bobby pins away from falling out, and my three-year-old is drooling on my tingling arm.

This week has not been the best… in fact, this month so far has been a complete shit show.

A couple of days before NYE, my littlest, Eve, hit her head when she fell off our 3ft indoor slide right onto the hardwood floor. Of course I was concerned when it happened, but I didn’t feel it merited much more than the usual bump check and kisses. I was wrong. About three hours later, she started vomiting for no reason, so I immediately took her to the ER. Poor baby had a concussion.

After five loooooooooong hours, a traumatic CT scan (that came back normal), and the vomiting had stopped, we were beyond ready to go home.

Over the next few days, Eve returned to her normal self… before coming down with a stomach bug.

This week I spent several hours hunched over cleaning up vomit and the most foul diarrhea I’ve ever seen/smelled. We went through SO MUCH bleach, so much hand soap, and so. many. towels.

Barf is the worst, you guys.
And diarrhea, I discovered, can sometimes be even worse.

But you know what’s worse than cleaning up after a stomach bug?

The quarantine.

loathe being stuck at home with the kids. It’s one of my least favorite things, right there next to small talk and doing laundry.

It took every ounce of patience and willpower I had left in my body to make it through these last few days. I constantly felt like I just “needed a minute”… to catch up with myself. To breathe.

We played pretend, we played hide and seek, we made art, we played games, we read books, we danced, we sang, we watched movies, we cuddled.

I cried this morning when I dropped the girls off at the sitter’s.

But not because I was going to miss them.

I cried because up until the moment I drove away without them in the back seat, I felt like I was going to break in half. I was freaking exhausted, all over.

I worked the entire time the girls were gone… I needed that time alone to feel sane again. It felt so good!

Tonight, as I sit here with purple bags under my eyes (and the faintest hint of a headache), I am thankful.

Despite how challenging January has been so far, these last few weeks have taught me to roll with the punches.
I’ve always struggled, as a mom, to let go of plans and expectations. But with kids, life just happens. It’s messy and unexpected. You’ve got to be ready for anything.

Well, as long as it’s not barf, I’m ready!

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