There are most definitely hills and valleys to this parenting gig. I’m in a very low and dark valley right now. My days are exhausting and I feel as though I yell more than I laugh with my children. They’re testing boundaries and my brain is desperately trying to keep up, let alone get one step ahead. Despite my best efforts, it all came crashing down this week.

I had to throw away the deck of Skipbo cards because more had been eaten than had been used in play. I was still scraping Playdoh out of the carpet after the kids snuck it into their bedroom. I had been trying to paint a set of bunk beds that we found on a Facebook Buy, Sell, Trade group during nap time, but no one was napping for me all week. Every five minutes someone was whining that they lost their drink cup. I was frustrated. I was flustered. I was so excited when preschool drop off time came on Monday. The excitement was short-lived.

While escorting the oldest in to her class, the little one had a diarrhea blow out that soaked the arm of my sweatshirt. Yay. We hurried home in a car reeking of ick. I was in such a hurry to get us cleaned up and get naps started that I just threw my sweatshirt into the washing machine, started it up, and put B in her bed. Twenty minutes later, I realized that I’d done the worst thing that a social media professional and work from home mom could have possibly done:

I WASHED MY IPHONE.

It had been in my sweatshirt pocket. I ran to the laundry room and opened the washer door. It was lying lifeless under a pile of soaked clothes. Devastation ensued.

I consulted Dr. Google. I buried it in a bag of rice. I prayed. I pleaded. I sucked up my pride and emailed my husband. Nothing worked. It was gone. It was also the straw that broke the camel’s back. I cried. And cried. And cried some more. We had no phone insurance. We had no upgrades. My phone was my only tether to the outside world during marathons of Peppa Pig and continuous verses of Wheels on the Bus. It was how I kept up with clients, got industry updates, stayed in touch with friends, and got to level 50 on Candy Crush (don’t judge). I was going to wither away alone with these children who were currently driving me insane. The world was over. (Rational thinking didn’t live here that day, obviously.)

As I sat there with wet, ugly cry face, the tide in our house shifted. The oldest, who was now home from school, told me over and over “Mommy, it’ll be okay.” B came over and put her head in my lap and smiled up at me. They put aside their crazy antics and rallied because one of our own was hurting. I felt better. I was succeeding in raising little people who knew how to be there for others no matter how ridiculous that person was being about a situation. Granted, they had no idea that their mother was crying over an electronic device and her own stupidity. They were still there, though. Just as I hug and console them when they cry about running out of waffles, my girls rose to the occasion too.

It gave me hope that, again, I’m not totally screwing this whole parenting thing up. I may be rapidly depleting our finances, but at least I’m not raising little jerks.
Now, I’d love to tell you that everything has been sunshine and rainbows since then. If you are or have ever been a parent of a toddler and a preschooler, you’ll know that that’s a laughable statement. But I have finally been able to put things in a better perspective and I’m climbing out of this valley. My sister told me this week “This is just a season you’re in. It’ll pass so quickly and one day, you’ll miss it.”

I can’t wait until I miss this.

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