Sorry Moms, It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

Earlier this month I was on top of the world. I had recommitted to an early morning exercise routine, started a new Bible study, agreed to volunteer my time at both the nursery and the Wednesday night program at church, and had even managed to lose a few pounds in the process. 

I was so confident in my awesomeness that, in addition to my regular day job, I decided to begin a two-year endorsement program that would require weekly homework and monthly evening class sessions. 

Had I sat down to write this post earlier in the month, it might have been titled, “Look at Me, I Can Do it All” or “How to Crush Motherhood.” 

OK, probably not, but I was planning to write about how much easier work-life balance becomes when you no longer have a baby at home. I intended to share about the freedom and energy I now have to focus on goals outside of motherhood, and how I am beginning to resurface into the world beyond the four walls of the baby’s nursery. 

It was going to be super encouraging and make all of you with tiny babies at home feel full of hope. Sure, you may feel overwhelmed and at near recluse status now, but when your youngest is two you, like me, will have it all together. 

After this weekend, however, I had to change the tone and the title of my post. 

The Plan

This weekend I was fully planning to rock motherhood.

Friday night was going to include popcorn and a movie night with time for home manicures with my girls. Saturday was going to include a memory-filled family trip to the apple orchard. That would be followed by an endearing afternoon with my fourteen-year-old, making appetizers together and helping her get ready for her first homecoming dance. Sunday would include church, a healthy homemade lunch, and – most importantly – the world’s best birthday party for my oldest son. 

We’d probably sing “kum ba yah” at some point too. I was flexible. 

Oh, and I had all of my normal weekend jobs – like laundry, mowing, meal prep, picking up the house, my usual schoolwork, and a homework assignment to boot. Still, I went in confidently. Believing I was going to do it all, do it all well, and earn mother-of-the-year status in the process. 

I was wrong. So wrong. 

The Reality

On Friday, my youngest – you know the kid who is not a baby anymore – wouldn’t let me put him down. If he wasn’t in my arms, he was covered in tears. And screaming on the floor. And turning away his usual comforts. As a result, I burned the popcorn. 

Instead of a fun family movie, we were all forced to watch Cars on repeat to appease the fussy two-year-old. Spoiler alert – Lightning McQueen never wins the Piston Cup, no matter how many times you watch the flick. Also, the smell of burnt popcorn takes forever to dissipate. 

My girls stumbled through their own manicures, much to the chagrin of the bathroom counter and a hand towel that was a casualty of the experience. At one point, ¾ of my children were crying. I went to bed sure we’d pull it together on Saturday. 

But we didn’t. Instead, the two-year-old spiked a fever at the apple orchard. Dad got to enjoy the corn pit and hay bale tower with the older kids while I cuddled my little man on a rustic bench. We lost track of time and ended up getting home much later than planned.

We barely managed to get homecoming hair and makeup done while throwing together appetizers, all the while dad was left to console the sick toddler who only wanted mom. 

Undercooked appetizers in hand, we arrived at my daughter’s homecoming dinner fifteen minutes late. As if that weren’t bad enough, I had to borrow the $5 homecoming admission fee from one of my daughter’s friends because I had no cash. 

Sunday. Sunday was going to be my day. My day to shine.

While the birthday party was great, I had to chaperone solo so the little guy could be home with dad. We ate reheated appetizers for lunch. Nobody had time to mow. The laundry didn’t get put away. And I have no idea what we will be eating for dinner this week. My homework was hastily submitted a mere 12 minutes before the 11 PM deadline. 

I didn’t crush motherhood, motherhood crushed me. 

My Mom Life Advice

And I realized I have no business telling you that it gets easier because it really doesn’t get easier. It just gets different. Hard in a new way, joyous in a different way, and just as humbling as always. 

So I end this month’s post offering you no advice, no clever tips, no reassuring anecdotes, just a powerful reminder that nobody can do it all, least of all me.