Evening Mom Confessions-
It’s 8pm and these damn kids are still up. Dishes are still in the sink from dinner, My body’s sore, my brain’s fried, and I’m staring at the same pile of laundry I’ve been ignoring for the past three days like it personally wronged me. Today? Kicked my ass. No poetic wrap-up. No silver lining. Just… straight-up survival mode. I don’t know what it is lately, but I feel like I’m running on fumes — like I’m half a second away from just collapsing. Every part of me is tired: my hands from cleaning, my legs from chasing, my heart from caring so damn much. And still, the house stays messy, the food goes untouched, and I’m supposed to keep showing up tomorrow and do it all again? I love my kids. God, I love them. But sometimes, I want to scream. I want to disappear to a hotel and just sleep. Or eat a hot meal. Or pee without someone yelling, “Mom! What you doing!?” Part of me feels guilty even admitting this. Like I’m not supposed to say I’m over it. But f*ck it — I am. I’m over the ...