You can’t always count on me to text you back, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by mentally responding to your message 57 times.

You can’t always count on me to remember every grocery item we need, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by making a list, checking the list repeatedly, and then somehow still forgetting something essential anyway.

You can’t always count on me to be on time, but you can count on me to giving it my darndest by rushing all the people to the car, reminding them that they do, in fact, need two shoes, and asking exasperatedly, “Why can’t you poop before we need to leave?!”

You can’t always count on me to look my best, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by applying my make-up at stoplights and blow-drying my hair with the car vents.

You can’t always count on me to remember every appointment/deadline/school project, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by repeatedly entering them into my calendar and setting a gazillion phone reminders that inevitably get overlooked.

You can’t always count on me to call you back, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by thinking about you 2895 times throughout the week, hoping I’ll remember when a spare, quiet minute comes (a minute that rarely materializes).

You can’t always count on me to have a clean house, but you can count on me giving it my darndest by walking around behind my children sweeping up crumbs and wiping sticky faces and counters like it’s my paying job.

You can’t always count on me to know where things are -- my keys, my phone (which will probably be on silent), any of it -- but you can count on me giving it my darndest by ravaging the house, forcing anyone else who’s home to help me look, only to find the missing item(s) right there in my purse or somewhere truly ridiculous (like the refrigerator).

You can’t always count on me to have it all together, but you can always count on my giving it my darndest.

And that's enough.

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