I’m tired.

Not just pandemic tired, but plain TIRED.

I am straight up exhausted.

I can have wonderful intentions and try to be asleep by 9 pm, only to find myself still awake at 11:30, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, creeping on that one mean girl from high school on Facebook, to see what she’s doing now, and googling healthy banana bread recipes.

And also watching The Alienist, but that’s a different story.

Maybe I set myself up for it, I don’t know, but my mind is always racing.

I’m thinking about if I read enough to my son today. I’m thinking maybe I let him watch too much TV today. I’m thinking about if I was present enough today.

I’m thinking about what we’re going to have for dinner next week.

I’m thinking about why we all just can’t live in peace.

I’m thinking about that one time, a few years ago, an employee at the grocery store asked me if I was finding everything okay and I said, “yes and how about you?”

I’m thinking about if I made the right choice for my son, in regards to school.

I’m thinking about that load of laundry that’s been sitting in the wash from two days ago, because I have another load, that’s been sitting in the dryer for a week.

I’m thinking about having to put gas in my car, because I’m pretty sure I left it on almost empty the other day.

I’m thinking about the fact that my husband and I haven’t had a date night in what feels like a century, and I really miss them.

I’m thinking about my life before I became a mom, and honestly, sometimes I miss that life.

That’s a mom’s mind—a locomotive, hurdling at light speed down the track; moving at a million miles an hour, from one thing to the next.

We are all exhausted.

We are all bogged down.

We are all elbows deep in craziness.

We are all feeling HEAAAAAAVY things. All the time. 24/7.

But you bet that tomorrow, we will be damn ready to throw ourselves at full speed into motherhood, because sure we’re tired, but we’re never too tired to appreciate what we’ve got.

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