Tales of a Questionable Mother: Surviving Parenthood One Chaos-Filled Day at a Time

I wake up feeling like I’ve got my life together. Today’s gonna be a good day, I tell myself. I stretch, take a deep breath, and embrace the new day with the confidence of a woman who has her shit together.

And then…the first crotch goblin wakes up.

Then the second.

And finally, the largest, and loudest one of them all.

Just like that, my hopes and dreams for a peaceful morning die a tragic, untimely death.

The Parenting Disaster Unfolds

I had plans today—big ones. My mother-in-law agreed to take the baby, and I was going to take the other two out for some errands like a responsible adult who functions in society. But before I could even step in the shower, my middle child, looking very tired and like she wasn't feeling well, informed me that she had just blessed the toilet with her breakfast. Sure enough, there was a nice slimy surprise in the commode.

Fantastic.

I did the usual—cleaned her up, gave her some medicine, and handed her a glass of water like the loving, caring mother I strive to be. No big deal. Just a minor setback. I could still salvage the day.

And then, chaos truly began.

Mom Life: The Comedy Special Nobody Asked For

Fresh out of the shower, towel barely hanging on, I’m trying to get dressed when—boom—diaper disaster. The baby decided her pants were an optional toilet today. No worries, though! I scooped her up and started running the tub.

That’s when my middle child, in a stroke of impeccable timing, projectile vomited across both the kitchen and the living room.

At this point, I was teetering on the edge of sanity, trying to maintain some level of control, but let’s be real—I was yelling. More than I should have. More than I wanted to.

Look, I know yelling isn’t ideal. I know I need to work on my patience. But when you’re homeschooling three kids—including one with learning and emotional challenges and another who’s ADHD as hell—it’s a lot. And let’s not forget, I’ve got my own issues to deal with. So, yeah, sometimes I snap. Sue me.

Am I a Bad Mom, or Just a Mom?

It’s days like today that make me question everything. Am I screwing up my kids? Am I failing them? Is my yelling going to send them straight to therapy one day? Probably.

But here’s the thing—bad moms don’t worry about being bad moms. The fact that I even care means I’m doing something right. Right?

Between the puke, the poop, and the pure insanity that is parenting, I’m out here doing my best. Some days, that means being the patient, Pinterest-perfect mom. Other days, it means locking myself in the bathroom for five minutes of holy shit, I need a break time.

And that’s okay.