What’s it like working from home?

This. It’s like this.

Somebody is always in my lap, trying to hold my hand while I’m typing, burrowing into me, or whining for something. I manage but I also get frustrated. 

They don’t get that I’m working. 
They don’t care that my computer is open as I’m filing stories. 
They don’t give a shit if I have to hop on the phone with a client. 
They don’t realize that although they’ve had every snack or drink I have to offer, I’ve consumed nothing except coffee. 
They don’t care about any of it. 

And not because they’re spoiled or bratty. They just want mama. Sometimes it fills my heart to the point I think I might burst and I want to smother them with kisses; and sometimes it breaks me and I just want to be left alone for 30 seconds so I can put a load of laundry in or have a call without proactively apologizing to whoever is on the other end for the shitshow going on behind the scenes. Motherhood is filled with days of nailing it so hard you feel like you should get a standing ovation and days where you cry in the shower because it’s just so fucking exhausting and overwhelming. But all we can do is tackle each day as it comes. We’re not perfect. But our kids think we are, so much so that they just want to be up our asses every second of the day. And that must mean we’re doing something right. ????????❤️