I just had time to lick the spoon.

I felt it coming.
I had felt it coming for a long time.
It's sneaky.
Camouflaging itself as guilt.
What's wrong with you?
Suck it up.
You don't have time for that.

I thought I had fought it off.
I let my guard down a few evenings ago, and it went in for the kill.
It's sneaky. I told you.

Changing dirty diapers and feeding hungry bellies occupy a huge part of each day.
In toddler land, both of those things are very touchy subjects.
Wrestling a seal and feeding a cheeseburger to a goldfish might be comparable.
Oh and potty training? Patience. That's all I have to say about that. You don't know patience until you encounter potty training.
In baby land, it's blowouts and boobies/bottles. I would say it's a tad easier, but also more time consuming.
Having to pee while feeding a baby takes incredible skill. Using one wipe instead of 1,000 is equally as skillful.
Teaching rapidly growing and curious brains takes up another good chunk of the day.
Questions, conversations, shapes, colors, ABCs, animals, numbers.
In between changing diapers, filling bellies and teaching brains there is clean up and lovins.
Baths, messes...messes, baths.
With messes, comes laundry; and spot cleaning poop, spaghetti sauce, finger paint, marker and lots of unidentifiable stains out of carpet, rugs and tiny clothes.
Kisses for boo-boos; and then kisses for the elephant, meow-meow, bunny, spider, sheep, dinosaur, and bear...because they have boo-boos, too.
Mommy, hold me please.
Of course I will. I'll hold you as long as you'll let me. Any time, any place. I would cuddle you forever.
Cuddles turn into gymnastics. On my face.
Laughing and enjoying the moment, while also guarding myself from accidental head butts and eye pokes.
Nap time is a mythical creature these days.

When Tyler came home that day, I was excited.
Excited to see him, but also equally excited to use the bathroom in private.
Apparently I didn't look excited, though.
Babe, are you ok?
Of course I'm ok.
Why is he asking me that?

I walked to the bathroom, closed the door and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Typically, I don't take the time to look at myself during the day.  It had been a typical day.
With that glimpse, I walked up to the mirror and took a good look.
Hair unwashed. Clothes covered in crusty things. Dark circles under my eyes.
My appearance was expressing what I had been trying to ignore.
No wonder Tyler asked me if I was ok, I thought.
My stomach growled. With that growl, I remembered something.
I only had time to lick the spoon.
The spoon I had used to make Adi's PB&J for lunch.
A spoon because all of the knives were in the dishwasher.
I hadn't eaten all day.
It wasn't new, it happens a lot.
But in that moment, alone in the bathroom, I had time to think about it.

I'm sure I am speaking for the majority of moms when I say this,

I love my babies.
I love them with all of my heart and soul.
They are my joy.
My sunshine.
My everything.
I've never laughed so hard, smiled so big or loved so much.
I remember when I heard their heartbeat for the first time. When I felt them flutter inside me for the first time. Looking into their eyes for the first time and forgetting all of the pain my body had endured to get them here.
Their first smile, laugh, roll, crawl, steps.  Watching their little minds think and grow.  Their hugs and kisses. Everything.
My babies make every day, the best day.
I wouldn't trade being their mommy for all of the money in the world.

I'm so thankful; but I'm also tired.
And I realized, when I saw myself in the mirror, that I need to pay a little more attention to myself.
I'm not talking anything crazy, just basic.
Trying to, at least, shower and eat daily. Take a nap when the opportunity arises. Steal a few minutes to paint my nails. Maybe throw on some mascara.
Little things can make the biggest difference.

Being a mommy is the most incredible experience; and it's also the most self-sacrificing.
There's a fine line between sacrifice and neglect.
Let's make a conscious effort to not cross that line.
Our babies deserve the best version of their mommies.

Let's do our best to give them that version.
A mommy who not only takes care of them, but also takes care of herself.

A mommy who does more than lick the spoon...and doesn't feel guilty about it.


I'm a bad friend.

I'm a bad friend.
I used to be a good friend.
The text all day, talk all night, drop everything friend.

You texted, I replied.
You called, I answered.
Want to grab dinner tonight? Sure!

Then something happened.
I got married.
And I felt something change inside of me.
My desire for that kind of friendship, the drop everything kind, it wasn't a desire anymore.
My new desire was to spend (the majority of) my free time with my husband.

At first I thought it was temporary.
I thought it was just the "newness" of married life.
I thought things would eventually go back to normal.
But as time passed, I realized that the desire (to spend my free time with my husband) was my new normal.
I married my best friend.

You texted, I replied 80% of the time.
You called, I answered some...but you usually got my voicemail.
Dinner tonight? How about dinner a week from Saturday.

Then something happened.
I had a baby.
And once again, something changed.
My new desire was to spend (the majority of) my free time with the little family we created.

You texted, I replied 5 hours later.
You called, it went straight to voicemail.
Dinner tonight? How about dinner a week from Saturday...as long as the baby isn't sleeping, or teething, and as long as I wasn't up with her all night. Oh, and as long as I am able to take a shower (haven't had one of those for a few days).

You tried to understand. I know you tried. But I could tell you were frustrated.
You thought I stopped caring about you. You felt like you weren't important.
I cried. A lot.
I cried because I knew that, even though you tried, you didn't understand.  It wasn't your fault. You just couldn't. I didn't understand until I was here.

My heart hurt because I knew you were hurting.
I wanted to apologize.

But the thing is, I'm not sorry.

I'm happy. Happy that I didn't marry just anyone.  I married the love of my life.  My best friend. Someone I want to spend all my days with. All my time with. Someone I would rather watch movies at home (in our pajamas, eating Chinese takeout) with, instead of going out.
Happy that we had a baby, and then another baby. Babies that are, in reality, my tiny best friends.
Babies that unlocked a love that I can't even begin to explain.

We're in different seasons.

I'm me.
I'm the same friend.
I care about you.
I love you.
But I'm not just a friend anymore.
I'm also a wife and a mommy.
I have a husband and two babies who are the loves of my life.
They deserve the majority of my time and attention;
and I can't give you as much of myself as I used to.

I know that, right now, you think I'm a bad friend.
But I pray that, one day, you'll marry your best friend and that you'll have tiny best friends.
I pray that you'll want to spend the majority of your free time with them.
I pray that you'll get to experience this kind of happiness and love.
I pray that you'll understand completely.

That, one day, you'll be a bad friend too.

PS. I already understand.