WARNING: If you are one of those perfect “I would never do that” or “OMG, my kids would never behave that way” moms.. then go away. This post isn’t for you. Actually, this entire blog isn’t for you. BYE :)

Anyways……

Today I cried in the bathroom while my kids argued on the other side of the door. They constantly fight. They constantly argue. And to be honest, they overstimulate the crap out of me most days. I love them to the ends of the earth, but sometimes I don’t like them that much. They piss me off. Yeah… I said it. THEY PISS ME OFF.

I cried in the bathroom. Not a graceful cry. Not a quiet one. The kind where you sit on the floor, stare at the wall, and wonder how something you love this much can make you feel so depleted at the same time.

I had already lost my patience yet again. I raised my voice. I said things I swore I wouldn’t say. The house was a mess, dinner was a last-minute scramble, and I felt like I was failing at everything all at once.

And the worst part? I told myself the same story so many moms tell themselves:

Other moms handle this better.
Other moms don’t lose it like this.
What is wrong with me?

Maybe you know that feeling too.

Maybe today you yelled when you meant to stay calm. Maybe you checked out when your kids needed you because you had nothing left to give. Maybe you’re lying in bed replaying every moment you wish you could redo.

Here’s what I’m learning. Slowly and imperfectly:

Feeling like you’re failing doesn’t mean you are.
It usually means you’re exhausted and trying to meet impossible expectations.

No one talks enough about how relentless motherhood can be. The constant needs. The noise. The decisions. The pressure to be patient, present, nurturing, productive, and grateful all at the same damn time. like we’re superhuman or something...  NEWSFLASH! We are not. 

Failure isn’t snapping after hours of holding it together.
Failure isn’t cereal for dinner or too much screen time.
Failure isn’t needing a break so badly it makes you feel guilty for wanting one.

Failure would be not caring.

Later that day, after I’d calmed down, my kid climbed into my lap like nothing had happened. No scorekeeping. No grudges. Just trust. And it hit me how different their version of me is from the one I carry in my head.

They don’t see a mom who failed today.
They see a mom who came back.
Who hugged them.
Who kept showing up.

So if today feels heavy. if you’re questioning yourself, your motherhood, and your ability to do this another day please hear this:

You are not failing.
You are overwhelmed.
You are human.
You are still a good mom.

Even on the days that break you a little.
Especially on those days.

Love yourself. Your kids sure do. They adore you, mama.