Mommy never has time.

I just wanted to take a shower the other morning. That’s it.

I woke up with my two-year-old on top of me, sweaty and smelling of her pee.

My husband was in the shower getting ready for work. I pulled my youngest out of bed, and baby wiped her,

got her dressed,

woke the other two up,

got them ready.

By the time everyone else was ready, and my husband came downstairs, we were eating breakfast, and it was 8:20 AM, and we needed to be out of the house by 8:30 AM.

And there I was: pajamas and knotty hair.

I had ten minutes.

Ten minutes to shower, brush my teeth and get dressed.

Ten minutes to shave half of a leg and become somewhat presentable.

I ran upstairs, the sweat settling upon my skin.

I started to gently move the toothbrush back and forth across my teeth when my middle daughter came barging into my room in tears.

“What happened, baby?” A slight furrow forming between my brows because, ugh, come on!

“I wanted mommy," she said, hugging my legs so tight I could hardly move.

She let me peel her off to hop into the shower and laughed at my rushed shower, which I had to dance through to entertain her.

Four minutes left.

I towel dried myself off,

threw clothing on,

and scrunched gel into sopping wet hair.

I took my daughter's hand, and we ran down the stairs together.

But what bothers me at times is that no one seems to care about the time I need, so I can feel okay and refreshed to start the day.

I only ever get ten minutes. If that.

And young kids don’t get the need to be alone, not even for those ten minutes.

One day it will be different, and I know I’ll miss this, but for now, it feels like mommy never has time.

And sometimes

some days like the other day,

it gets to me.

This post originally appeared on the author's Facebook. Her book "Living FULL: Winning My Battle with Eating Disorder" is available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2O4mJId