I've Got The Answer.

I was going to get online and search for an answer. But the truth is, I already have - and know - the answer. I'll go ahead and play judge and jury on this one, and in case you happen to be on the same sinking ship that I am on, I'll share the answer with you ...

The answer is yes. Yes, you are normal.

Hey there to the lady who is trying and failing at everything life throws her way. Hey there to the mama who is shouting so loud she is afraid she might pop a blood vessel in her eye. Hey to the lady friend who wants to try and have an adult conversation with another friendly adult, but can't because her 10 year old son keeps interrupting her to tell her that he lovvvvvvvvves his pretzel bites. Over and over again. I see you. I am you. You're normal.

Today has been rough. This week has been frustrating. This month has been stressful. Nothing terrible is actually happening, and yet I feel like I'm always on fire. I'm always sinking. Or drowning. Or <insert distressing situation here>. This motherhood shit, it ain't for the faint of heart.

Today I missed the memo that there was no school. So we got up early and out of the house, comparable to reaching the summit of Everest, for nothing. This meant Jet had to suffer through Navy's ballet class, which consequently meant I also suffered. Then we went for a haircut because all this out of the house effort shouldn't be wasted - and I spent the duration of the haircut keeping Navy's fingers out of thousands of dollars of pomade. We went to the mall play area, where I lost the battle of the toddler. Her weapon of choice was a pair of stranger-danger rain boots she insisted belonged to her, and a green apple sucker. Wright exercised her lungs to full capacity on the 30 minute drive home. I got a can of paint stuck under my car - because, of course I did. We came home later than anticipated where a messy house awaited (would have skipped the cleaning but company arrives tonight) - school happened on a delay, Navy wouldn't fall asleep, Wright needed to be held at all times. She also barfed enough to fill at least one half of Lake Michigan. I haven't eaten today, because there was never a moment. My brain feels like Pop Rocks and soda and Mentos, or maybe that's my nerves? All the same. I'm frazzled and angry and tired and flustered and ... totally normal. 

I know it could be worse. I'm not blind in seeing that my worst days are carousel rides in comparison to what others are going through. I don't need sympathy. I just needed to remind myself that I am okay, even when I'm not okay. When I feel like my eye balls are escaping from my face and steam might actually be blasting from my ears and my hair is made of fire like the red dude in "Inside Out" - I'm still okay. When I think of remembering my kids and their childhood - these are the days I hope we all forget. And that's okay ... it's normal.

So hey to the person reading this - if you lost your marbles today and feel miserable and jarbled and haggard - like you just escaped a you-sized dryer. It's aight. We got this. Tomorrow will hopefully be better. Or next week. Or soon. Eventually it gets better. The ebb, the flow. But until then, as my gift to you ...

Imagine me. Hopped up in my minivan, cracked out with anxiety, with a baby screaming like a stuck pig, Dwayne Johnson's "You're Welcome" playing full blast, and a damn metal can of paint stuck up under the car. And me backing up, pulling forward, backing up ... all white this metal can oozes and drags and scuffs the road. That was my day. Would have been a great GIF. The Rock says, "You're Welcome". 

Let's try and laugh this off. And if you can't? It's okay. Still normal.