I have no idea what day it is anymore.

My kids have completely overruled me.

The lines are blurred between meals and what even counts as a “meal”. Case in point, my toddler had an applesauce pouch and a bowl of m&m’s for lunch.

My tween is melding into her own bed and they are slowly becoming one. Everyone is so far off their schedules it’s like a free-for-all.

I had to leave several group texts because I can’t fucking take the constant ding with a new doom and gloom story 5 minutes.

I’ve traded the news on TV for Tiger King on Netflix as I fold the 400th load of laundry because in this crazy time that feels more sane than real life.

My toddler is fighting the big girl bed thing so hard and actually got up as I was trying to lay with her and started saying “look mommy, I twerking” until about 3am as I buried my head in the pillow silently screaming.

I got maybe 30 minutes of sleep and felt like I was back in the newborn phase again, which is precisely why my husband got a vasectomy a couple years ago, because neither of us wanted to deal with this level of sleep deprivation ever again, yet here we fucking are.

I tried to nap but couldn’t.

I drank all the coffee but it can’t touch me.

So, I excused myself from my life for a few minutes and did weighted everything – weighted blanket, weighted eye mask. The whole shebang. I’d have welcomed a full grown adult gorilla sitting on my chest right now if it would provide the same calming effect.

My self-imposed weighted timeout was interrupted by my tween who got out of her bed to come and ask me to get her a glass of water, but not before she snapped this picture.

I’m fine though. Everything is fine.