I didn’t want to be a mommy today…I wasn’t good enough to be one. Let this be my apology letter to my kids one day for how I acted today.

Dear T (presently two years old), K & K (both only six months),

Ugh. I sucked today. I’m sorry babies. I seriously love being your mother, but sometimes I can’t stand it. On days like today, six months into having twins, having not slept more than a few hours in what seems like forever, I failed you. I do everything to help you (all) never have a sad moment in your life. I wake up with you throughout the night. I feed you when you are hungry (even though I should be letting you “cry it out” by now). I cuddle you as much as I can with three of you when you are sick (which you have all three have been this week). I play with you ALL day. I’m on the floor with you, we go for walks, we play outside, we sing and dance to silly songs, I teach you the ABCs. But, sometimes that’s not enough for you guys, and for some reason beyond my understanding, you cry, like A LOT. It’s T, then Kee, then Kay or sometimes all of you at once. Today was a crying day.

My heart breaks for you. It really does. The mommy guilt I feel on a daily basis is sometimes too much for me to handle. I can’t take away your pain, or figure out how to help you, and I’m tired, grouchy, and imperfect. Today the crying was just a little too much, and I had that thought that sometimes pops up on days like this, “I give up. I don’t want to be a mommy today.” Today I just wanted my body not to be a mommy body, my hair to not be a play toy, to be able to eat one bite of food, to get out of my pjs before noon, and to NOT have to listen to constant crying.  At times like that, I have to walk away, shed my own tears, and breathe (sometimes scream). If I could WILL you to stop crying, boy, would I! I find anger and discontent in my own brokenness. (If you think you are a “good” Christian, kids sure will bring out that brokenness really quick.) My frustration in not being able to help you comes out in the worst of ways, by taking it out on you, which doesn’t make the situation any better of course.

But then, the crying finally subsides and one of you gives me a smile and my heart melts. There is no trophies or thank you’s, or “I love you’s” given to moms, we survive purely on your happiness, which, like a rainbow, always comes back out after the storm has passed. I need to remember the rainbow more often, it’s often hard to see the big picture when you are so tiny and need so much love, sometimes more than I can provide at that moment. But, I do love you. With all my heart, I love you. I’ll never stop being your mommy, even when my brokenness is telling me this job stinks (like, literally, do you know how many poopie diapers I change of yours a day?). Will you please forgive me and my drastically shifting moods?

Your FOREVER Mommy