This week in motherhood is wishing a Tuesday were a Friday.

It’s sleeping beside a puddle of vomit with a towel thrown on the top and it’s nursing until my nipples feel on fire.

It’s scrapes from dirty fingernails down my chest.

It’s taking a day off work though I can’t afford to, and taking another day on to compensate.

It’s cold rains on foggy windows, wool slippers under blankets, and sky high filth at the kitchen sink.

This week is 5 days without a shower and washing my face with a baby on my back.

It’s remembering to brush my teeth.

It’s cuddling one baby in a cozy wrap, and telling the other one her illness isn’t enough to warrant my sympathy or my time.

It’s open blisters and tear-stained cheeks and dirty noses and overflowing garbage cans, filled with all our assorted mucous.

It’s sending shitty packed lunches, arriving late for drop-off, and throwing on my husband’s sweatpants to rush to pick-up all over again.

It’s feeling trapped in our own home.

This week there are no playground trips or treats at the store. There are no playdates or beach trips, either. But that’s not the reality of this gig, anyhow- Motherhood is what’s happening when nobody’s watching.

So this week is compromising good sleep habits for survival.

It’s eating Oreos for breakfast, two coffees for lunch and boxed macaroni for dinner.

It’s forgotten school fundraisers.

It’s a solitary giggle between sisters in the backseat of the car,  and it’s drinking six hot teas in a row.

It’s picking green pumpkins at a pumpkin patch and it’s spilling drinks across library books.

This week is learning the letter T.

And T is for Trying.

That’s what motherhood is this week.