Tiny little things.

I feel like life is just floating by. Like I am consumed in the pace.

No routine, yet my weekly cycle just continues to swallow me whole.

I'm exhausted. In more ways than just the literal sense.

Being a night shift nurse & day shift momma has me feeling like I am wasted. I'm here but never present. I'm either at work or sleeping. And my days off consist of me crashing or cleaning up the week long disaster that occurred while I was checked out. I know I'm irritable (I average about 14 hours of sleep in a 4 day span) I snap, I retreat, I don't want to play, I don't want to deal with the world most days. I just want to be un-present, un-needed.

Mom guilt hits me like a damn freight train. My kids miss me. Hell, I miss me. I miss movie nights and late night snuggles. I miss baking and kitchen dancing. I miss having time. I miss having energy.

If we're being totally honest, mentally I feel numb. The lack of sleep, the toddler tantrums, the incessant household duties. The remembering EVERY. SINGLE. THING. about every one's lives. Not just at home. Oh no, I'm consumed in caring for everyone else at work too. And that's the thing that is catching up with me. I am giving. I am giving myself to everyone. Every day.

I am relied on. I am in demand. I am needed.

I am burnt out.

I keep telling myself this is all temporary. One day I won't be working night shift. One day I'll have that career change. One day I'll take that long overdue vacation. One day the kids won't need me. One day I'll get an approximate amount of sleep. One day I won't have this, or that...and I will certainly be more like myself.

And here's the killer...

One day, my babies won't be babies anymore. They won't cry for me when I am leaving. They won't beg for me to play hide and seek. They won't want to snuggle. They won't need me to open up their millions of snacks. They won't need me, period.

But I'll need them.

I'm just at this place, you know, that life milestone. That late 20s-early 30s, where we have absolutely no clue what the hell we are doing, but we're doing it. Like I still call my mom multiple times a week, because I am just skating by trying to figure out life still - yet here I am, raising kids.

That point in life where I am questioning EVERYTHING. Because its not just about survival anymore. Like, when they were just babies all I had to do was keep them alive and we were all happy about it.

Now? Good Lord. They are tiny people now. These are tiny humans who think and feel and love and LEARN every single moment.

Are they learning that momma is not present?

Are they learning that momma is checked out?

Are they picking up that I feel too exhausted for them sometimes?

I'll be the first to say, I am a passive parent. My kids figure a lot out on their own. They spend their days running wildly and with way to much screen time. And I'm there to help them with what they can't. Sure, they are smart and kind and I am beyond proud of who they are.

But I also feel like I am taking their independence for granted. The monotonous daily cycle and exhaustion kicks in and I find myself comfortable sinking into the background, while chaos ensues around me.

Is there a fine line between raising strong, independent girls & girls who grow up feeling like they raised themselves? Am I missing that mark? Or is it my hormone driven anxiety getting the best of me again.

Do my actions speak louder than my words? Do my kids feel my love, even when I feel so distant?

Sometimes it feels lonely, but I know I'm not alone.

Make time, momma.

Fight the exhaustion. The mental fog.

Pray.

Laugh with them.

Hold them, while you can.

I know you're tired.

I know your heart hurts.

I know you're uncertain.

PRAY.

I know God put you here, and those babies want YOU as their momma. They love you through your faults and your messy parenting.

Just keep praying. Just keep pushing. Just keep loving them, the best that you can.

Everyone is going to be okay. ❤

Much love,

Maddie