It's just spilled milk.

Updated: Mar 3, 2019

Some moms have asked..."how the heck do you handle work, life, a commute, kids, home, husband, dogs, and YOU."

Well, let me share with you a story. 100% true. None of it made up or glamorized for this post.

A story that shares how unbelievably raw and real my day to day is, and how I sometimes feel that I'm barely surviving. Trust me, it's not easy.

Two weeks ago, my husband was home for master leave (vacation). Of course, his time off is while I'm at work. So, woo-hoo, no fun for me.

Mid day, I get a text from my firstborn.

"We need more cereal dad is a cereal murder."

(i'm sure he meant murderer)

Sooooooo as much as I appreciate the humor TJ threw into the text, I'm absolutely beat from my day.

I'm bubbling with irritation that my husband, who's been home all day, can't be the one to be the milk/cereal savior.

It's 5:30pm in Los Angeles on a Wednesday. Which means ALL of Southern California will be on the mother f****** 91 freeway headed home, probably just as annoyed as I was.

**For those of you not familiar with Los Angeles' 91 freeway, it's pretty much an ultra-long parking lot, filled with thousands upon thousands of commuters all sharing the same special misery.

As I sit in snail traffic, I think to myself, "I JUST bought a box of cereal and milk yesterday!! Are these kids feeding the birds with this stuff!???"

I get over my angst. I switch my mind to something I should be grateful about.

I make it to my city and now extra annoyed that I can't turn right to my normal turn home.

Quick left to my grocery store. I hastily get down. Search for the cereal/milk. Buy my children's survival breakfast supplies. Tiredly walking to my car and thinking about how relieved I am that I'm almost done and 8 minutes away from being home-home.

Mentally envisioning grateful children and a warm, loving home with hugs and smiles.

Now I'm home, in my driveway. It's so ultra-important to me to teach the boys to be gentlemen and helpful. I call TJ and tell him to meet me at my car.

Both boys run down to me INCREDIBLY HYPER and excited for my arrival. Playfully wrestling as they scoop their heads into the car


"Grab the bags boys!! There's 2 here."

Now the youngest clumsily grabs the 19 pound bag filled with a 1 gallon bottle of milk. (I immediately think this is a terrible idea, but too tired to fight it at this point.) The oldest grabs the lighter bag with the cereal box and fruits.

I'm holding my laptop bag and my 78,636 other normal things I always have with me after work (empty coffee cups, water bottles, phone, lunch bag). Exhausted and excited that I'm home.

They're ahead of me, flinging the bags around. The arguments start. "TEEEEEEEEEEJ, CARRY THIS ONE!" Dragging the bag on the floor, as if that's cool and nothing will break.

TJ flings his light bag on Austin. Austin's now pissed and drags the bagger faster on the ground until he gets to our 3-tier step to the front door. Thump, thump.

The mother f$%^&* gallon of milk breaks and spills all over my mother f*&^%%$ steps. 😡🤦🏽‍♀️😭

Now I'm f*&*()& pissed!!!!!! Livid.

Even though it was an accident, I felt like the level of gratitude and appreciation was at ZIP ZERO. I'm tired, beat, and ready to enjoy my family/home, and there's spilled milk running down my steps.

On top of that beautiful cake, my husband works for one of the federal agencies impacted by the government shutdown. 3 weeks, no pay. So the thought of buying milk on my credit card irked me profusely.

After raging thru the front door, I'm ironically welcomed to a clean kitchen table with a lovely home cooked meal waiting for me.

Tony's now upset because I'm yelling about the milk incident. Emotions are flaring. Austin's crying because he feels bad. TJ feels bad that he instigated it. Tony's now using our hose to flush out white milk spilling in a million different directions in our front patio. Tension is radiating ALL around.

I sit at the table. I stop, take a deep breath and realize everything that just happened cannot change and it's all temporary.

Tony joins me back in the house. I look at him in the eyes with a smirk on my face. A smirk that conveys "wow, that just happened." combined with "well, what do we do now?"

I give him a warm look and I swear this is all true and oh-so cliche.

"It's alright. It's OK Tony. It's JUST spilled milk."

In the heat of things, I was in no mood to take a photo of what my nasty patio looked like or my angry scowl on my face. It was just too much at that moment.

However, this @scarymommy Instagram post speaks volumes for this ordeal and every other one that we parents face.

No matter the age, every stage has it's challenges. It all feels so excruciatingly painful when we're in the middle of it, but let's remember that it's all temporary.

Know that somewhere in the world, there's a parent feeling a similar stress, bigger or smaller than yours.

Pray for the best, ride the wave, it will all be OK.

I hope that you can find the light at the end of your day.

Love 💖,

Your Fellow (also stressed) Mom


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