If you just saw her walking down the street, she might look like any other woman. But if you studied her more closely, if you followed her around for a few hours, you might see that…
Her shirt has a stain….baby spit up or a jelly smear or craft paint, or maybe a combination of all three.
Her purse holds a stray happy meal toy.
Her van has a few goldfish crackers stuck between the seats – and a few smashed into the floorboard for good measure.
Her laundry room is piled high with dirty clothes…and clean ones that need to be folded.
Dr. Seuss books are her latest reads.
She’s buckled someone into something at least 82 times in the last week.
Pushing a grocery cart through Walmart involves tactical maneuvers and counts as her physical exercise for the day.
She knows the location of every restroom in every store for when that potty-training child needs one in a flash.
The last time she slept straight through the night was….well, she can’t remember.
She treasures every “I love you, mommy,” every baby smile, every handpicked weed bouquet, every bedtime cuddle.
And while the thought of a quiet drive in the car all alone or a long shower with no one banging on the bathroom door or a morning to sleep in past sunrise sounds amazing, she wouldn’t trade what she has for anything else in the world.
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