You guys, I’m tired.

Except I don’t think that’s quite the right word.

Saying ‘I’m tired’ is like saying ‘I’m chilly’ when I’m buried up to my neck in a snowbank wearing my bathing suit while my little black toes begin breaking off one by one.

I’m what you might call ‘pandemic’ tired.

I’m attempting to make good decisions about school when there are no ideal options.

Plus, these wild kids I'm parenting are already cooped up and crazy from this weird (and kinda lame) summer.

And my husband is stressed to the max working long hours at the hospital.

I’m just…tired.

Tired of the news and politics and opinions and fighting and ugliness.

I’m CORONA tired.

And I’m guessing we ALL are!!

I wish I could lay down and sleep for a week.

Or a year.

Or at least until this whole thing is over. (I mean, it’s going to be over one day, right???)

But I can’t.

I’m a mom.

I’m a mom attempting to parent in the middle of a global pandemic.

And though it is impossible for me to control how this next year will play out…

I’m going to do the ONLY thing I can do.

I’m going to move forward.

One next right baby step at a time.

I’m going to set my expectations (for myself and my husband and my kids and the rest of the world) low.

Very, VERY low.

I’m going to focus all my energy on love and rest and connection and self-care and sleep and gratitude and joy.

Then whenever I feel tired. Or stressed.

I’m going to wiggle my warm little toes…

And remember to be gentle.

Brave.

And kind.

(especially to myself)