I'm not on the front lines.

Of anything.

Just my oldest child's bedroom floor.

It feels like I went to war today, though I *know* that is a way overdramatic statement.

Mommin' ain't easy.

Mommin' is even harder when you have multiple kids.

Mommin' is hard when you have a cold.

Mommin' is hard when you have anxiety.

Mommin' is hard when there is a novel pandemic presenting,

the world feels uneasy,

everyone is forced into social distancing and isolation,

and you're unsure if you are making all of the right decisions.

I'm on the front lines of hardcore mothering around the clock for the next 14+ days, but I'll survive, despite the funny memes circulating that I may not.

Because you see, I'm not on duty like

doctors,
nurses,
scientists,
medical assistants,
pharmacists,
grocery clerks,
Amazon delivery persons,
and
nursing home staff,

JUST. TO. NAME. A. FEW.

all of whom, in their own way, are going above and beyond to keep doing their job and doing it well. At the same time, likely feeling overtasked and exhausted AND while dealing with the to-be-expected, very concerned and worried, half-overreacting, and half-underreacting general public on their heels and backs and in their ears.

I'm not on the front lines like those in countries where this pandemic is widerspread and where there are nationwide lockdowns.

I'm not on those front lines, and for that, I must be grateful.

I'm lucky to be here on my child's floor.

I'm lucky to be dealing with the challenges of motherhood and not shortness of breath, fever, and trying to fight this incredibly serious virus' attack on my body or that of those I know and love.

I'm not on the front lines, but some are.

Let's remember that.

Let’s thank them.

Let's pray for them.

And, let's love our children, our people, and strangers just a little bit harder from here on out.