The stories we’ll wish we wrote down
There’s a moment in motherhood when you finally exhale. Not because the laundry’s done (it never is), or because dinner didn’t end in tears (yours or theirs). But because your baby — your sweet, confusing, sleep-fighting baby — has been sleeping through the night. Not once. Not by accident. But for real. A few nights turns into a week. Then a month. But then, just as the ground feels solid again – 3:00 AM. A blood-curdling scream. Out of nowhere.
Motherhood has a way of making the completely absurd feel strangely normal. Like saying sentences you never imagined would come out of your mouth… with the seriousness of a courtroom judge. “Do not lick the picnic table at the playground.” “We don’t pet bees.” “WHY are you handing me poop?” And then there are moments that leave you with no words at all. When all you can think is: really, this too? You just wanted two minutes alone. Not to scroll. Not to nap. Not even to breathe deeply. Just to pee. Or, in this case, more than pee. But…