tired

I feel like if I’d started earlier, had my first kid at 28 instead of 34, maybe I’d be a little less tired right now. Maybe I’d be a more fun mom if my knees didn’t sound like small arms fire every time I tried to run with my son. Maybe I’d be a better mom if I was younger. But I don’t think so. My kids? They’re awesome. And I’m the mom they have, so I must be doing something right, old or not.

When a parent has a really bad day or when there are too many kinda-sorta bad days strung too close together, it wears you down. It’s deflating. Patience? What’s that? Your threshold for losing your crap pretty much does not exist.