Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a superhero. I cannot “do it all,” and I don’t have eighteen hands. I can’t hold Samara, make breakfast, clean the kitchen, bathroom, living room, teach Ari numbers and letters, change Samara’s diaper, use the bathroom myself, make Ari nap, make dinner, soothe Samara when she’s crying, teach Ari not to be afraid of monsters, find homeopathic remedies for teething babies, take the kids to the playground, and the list goes on and on.

This weekend, I broke down. I lost it. I’m not exaggerating.

I cried. I screamed. I’m still trying to piece myself back together.

I think part of the problem is the idea that things need to be a “certain way.” Yes, it’s good to have a routine, but when things don’t go as planned, I need to learn to adapt.

I remember something my midwife said: “Take 30 minutes a day to be by yourself, without the kids.”

I’m beginning to realize that this is imperative for my own sanity.

Have you ever felt this way?