I’ve learned a lot since I was a new mother. My approach to struggle and shame now is to talk to yourself like you’d talk to someone you love and reach out to tell your story. ~ Brene Brown

There are days that motherhood just soars. The dishes and laundry and drop offs and pick ups and dinner magically fall into place. The to do list has beautiful checks next to every task. And everyone is still getting along at bedtime.

There are other days that fall apart by 5:34am.

People are fussing, food will most definitely come from a bag, and gym clothes are no where to be found.

Throw into this mix a teenager, a tween, a preschooler, and a baby. Add in a dash of uncertainty about adoption and attachment. Mix it with a people-pleaser who hasn’t had more than five entire nights sleep in almost two years and you are asking for some interesting days. (I really, really like sleep. I mean really.)

And then I slow down. I sit and just watch.

It’s not just about the good days, is it? It’s about the bad days and the in-between days. It’s about the days that you keep smiling when you are wearing a shirt with oatmeal stains from breakfast at the parent meeting that night.

It’s about the days that you were still kind even though you had to bite your tongue when you were asked where the trash bags are and you’ve lived in the same house with things in the same place for more than five years.

It’s about the days that you are giving yourself a high five for driving a forgotten lunch to school, only to find out that you forgot the music club folders.

It’s about the days that you find gratefulness in your heart because of onesie pajamas, silly smiles, and tenderness.