A grieving mother sits in her child's bedroom holding their toy in her arms while resting her head in her hands. The child's bed can be seen in the background untouched from when they were last in it.

My day starts at 5:15 am. My alarm goes off and I roll out of bed and right into my workout clothes and head to the basement for my morning workout.

I don’t get up at 5am to exercise because I’m ultra-fit or extremely dedicated to physical activity. I get up at 5am because it’s the only time of the day that I am actually alone. No one is demanding of me. No one is calling my name or asking me to butter their bread or pour their juice. No one is asking me where the swim goggles are or to help them find their left shoe.

It’s peaceful and quiet and I’m alone. And yes the physical fitness part is good for me too.

The thing is after that first hour of my day I will never slow down again. Not until minutes before I go to bed. Most of the time I end up falling asleep on the couch the minute I sit down.

I will spend the rest of the day rushing around from one place to another.  I will rush out of the house and make it to work just in the nick of time. I will spend the day frantically and impossibly trying to fit everything in to an eight hour day. I will prioritize and figure out which email has to be answered immediately and which phone call I can return tomorrow.

I will zip home praying to make all the green lights so that my babysitter can get home.

I will figure out the quickest yet healthiest thing to make for dinner and make sure it gets in them with enough time to digest before soccer practice.

I will sit at the table beside them helping them with their math homework and listening to them do their reading.

I will spend an hour first asking then begging, yelling and crying for them to get in the shower and get into their pj’s. Once the evening time hits all my patience flies out the window.

If somehow we manage to get through showers, pj’s and tooth brushing, we will cuddle in bed reading stories; sometimes reading silently to ourselves sometimes reading out loud with each other.

I will then spend the next hour telling my kids to go to bed. They will need a drink of water, they will have to go to the bathroom, they will be too hot and then too cold, they will have a tummy ache or a headache. I will ask them and eventually will threaten them with loss of screen time before it becomes quiet.

I will head downstairs and prepare everything for the next day. I will get lunches ready, lay out clothes and make sure permission forms are signed.

I will fall asleep on the couch and eventually drag my exhausted body up the stairs only to find my kids asleep in my bed.

I’m a mom who has it all, right?

I have a wonderful, beautiful family. I have a good job. I have a great husband. Add in an adorable dog and I have it all.

Most days I am in love with my life. This is exactly what I have always wanted. I have worked really hard for this life. Most days I know just how lucky I am.

Some days I wake up and wonder if I have it all why do I feel like I’m a mom on the verge of breaking?

Yet somehow I don’t break. Somehow I get through the day and eventually flop in bed until my alarm goes off and I roll out of bed ready to do it all over again.

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