There’s nothing quite like motherhood to make you realize your gross inadequacies. Over the last week or so, it seems like everything has come to a head, but the last two days have been complete madness.

Nothing seems to be going right.

I have something weird going on with my foot that I need to get looked at which
Makes it impossible to run right now which
Makes it really hard to lose the last 10-15lbs of baby weight which
Bums me out and makes me want to eat cookies which
Makes me need to make cookies (and roasted pumpkin seeds) but
My oven literally ignited yesterday because
I made meatloaf the night before (which I never do and it sucked) and the grease dripped out of the pan so
When the oven lit on fire, I cursed and then tossed water on it which
Was a terrible idea because grease (duh).
Then the baby woke up a 4:55am and proceeded to spend the next hour kicking, punching, smacking, scratching ,and screaming until…

I completely lost my sh*t. 

I changed her diaper with more force than was necessary, stomped her down to our bedroom, left her with Daddy, stormed back up to the guest room, and slammed the door as hard as I could, all the while trying not to let loose with a barrage of language that would make even my sailor blush.

The day never got much better. The baby face planted into a pile of pinecones and cut her tiny nose. In an effort to make up for being such a jerk to her, I gave her a warm cookie and wound up with tiny, chocolate handprints all over the couch. We’re back to violent nursing sessions so my nipples are close to bleeding (again). I realized I’ve forgotten to take my PPD meds for, like, a week. And instead of choosing a healthy lunch (which was an actual goal today), I’ve eaten cookie dough, chocolate covered almonds, and coffee.

Frankly, none of these things (except maybe the obviously unnecessary anger at my daughter) are a big deal, one at a time. But all at once? I honestly don’t know whether to drink, cry, or sleep. Or all of the above. Or in what order. I’ve reached a point where I kind of want to check out.

I’ve reached the point where motherhood has completely kicked my ass.

There are no time outs. There are no weekends. There are no coffee breaks.

And to be honest, I don’t want them. Okay, I want to sleep a little longer, but that’ll happen in time. This won’t be the last time motherhood tries to destroy me and I’m convinced there will be days that are exponentially harder than today (I only have one baby, after all).

I think I just need to accept that garbage days are going to happen. I mean, we’re both still alive and I didn’t even actually burn the house down (though it would have been warranted after finding two GIANT spiders in the house yesterday). Miserable failure is a feeling that won’t last. Fat days happen. Babies have crappy days just like grown ups do. Cookie dough is a perfectly legitimate lunch. Netflix is an acceptable babysitter, especially if I haven’t peed in seven hours.

And sometimes, sitting down and having a glass of wine while the baby finally naps is more important than doing the dishes, more productive than folding laundry, and more fulfilling than reading a book. The descent into madness is real. Wallowing, even if for just a few hours, is completely reasonable.

Let’s all just admit a few things:
1. Motherhood (or womanhood or personhood) really sucks sometimes;
2. Bad days are going to happen and we need to be okay with owning them; and
3. Things WILL get better. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even soon, but they will.

Until then, I’ll be over here, trying to keep from sitting in a corner and rocking.