The baby is crying, the toddler is hungry, and the dog just peed on the rug.
My hands are full today.
My husband is working, my toddler has to be at school in 10 minutes but refuses to put on clothes, and the baby woke up four times last night.
My hands are full today.
I have a doctor’s appointment, the toddler can’t find her shoes, and the baby is hungry.
My hands are full today.
I have gray hair shimmering in my light brown hair, I’m not sure what size jeans I wear anymore, and all the nursing bras are dirty.
My hands are full today.
The baby will only sleep in my arms.
My hands are full today.
The toddler had a scary dream, I’m the only person she wants.
My hands are full today.
My mind is exhausted, I haven’t showered before noon in four months, and I can’t remember the last time I slept for an eight hour stretch. Every bit of me is full today. At the end of the day, I don’t have one ounce of energy left to give. I have been touched, spit up on, peed on, cried at, and needed all day long.
Not every day will be like this.
Soon, I’ll catch up on my hobbies, read a good book, and train for another half marathon. I’ll have adult conversations at my leisure. I will have a clean house.
Someday, my hands won’t be full.
I will long for my daughters to need me, to want me. I will miss the sleepless nights nursing a fussy baby and the scary dreams from which I rescued my toddler. I will miss the pitter-patter of little feet running to me when I get home. I will miss the excitement of Christmas morning. I will miss the days full of school, practices, and games. I will miss tickle fights, dance parties, and sweet hugs. I will long for one more, “Momma, I wanna tell you a story!”
