Another episode from the beautiful chaos of motherhood

Hey, y'all! I'm back and honey... if you thought my last couch crisis was something, wait until you hear about this week. My kid was sick. Not just sniffly sick, but that kind of sick where your entire job description changes overnight from "mom" to "nurse," "entertainment coordinator," "snack dispenser," and "human tissue dispenser" all rolled into one exhausted package.

She was home for a week. A WHOLE WEEK. And by Saturday... whew!

The amount of exhaustion I feel is unprecedented. I mean down to my bones, like another couch crisis day but somehow worse because I can't even have a proper couch crisis when there's a tiny patient who needs me every 3.2 seconds.

I finally got her down for a nap today, and I swear it was like she took a NoDoz, shots of espresso, and a Red Bull before laying down. Where did she get this energy? She's been sick for days, barely eating, but somehow still bouncing off the walls like she's powered by some secret toddler battery pack. And do they sell that energy on Amazon? Because Mama is TIRED.

You ever been so tired you can't sleep, but you need to sleep, so you just rest your body and lay there? But you can't rest your mind because you're worried about bills, what you're cooking for dinner, and how you're going to find the energy to pick up blocks, Barbies, and Legos scattered all over the floor like some kind of tiny plastic obstacle course designed to test your will to live? Just me?

I can't afford a vacation...

...so I go on YouTube and watch other people on vacation and pretend I am the camera person. Or just watch those ocean videos, you know the ones. The 10-hour loops of waves crashing with that ambient sound that's supposed to be relaxing but sometimes just makes me need to pee. I don't need my passport stamped or anything, don't have to board a plane, check luggage, deal with TSA touching my hair, just turn the TV on and pretend.

But I want to do this for real. I long for the days when a flight attendant hands me a ginger ale and those cookies... you know the ones. Biscoff cookies. Those little slices of heaven that taste like cinnamon dreams and make airplane food almost worth it.

Right now I have a pile of crushed up Graham crackers in my bed. Graham crackers I didn't eat. They're just... there. Evidence of my child's sick-day snack attacks that somehow migrated to my sanctuary. I'm trying to decide if I should change the sheets or just brush the crumbs to the floor, but what if I miss a crumb and that one crumb drives me crazy all night? You know how it is when you're trying to sleep and there's that ONE thing poking you that you can't quite locate?

Why don't I use my dishwasher?

Like, the dishes are piled up in the sink, staring at me accusingly, and that magical machine is sitting right there ready to help. But that seems like extra work. Because you have to rinse them, load the washer, add the detergent, wait for the cycle, then take them out and put them away. Yadda, yadda, yadda... might as well just wash them by hand, right? That's the kind of logic that makes perfect sense when you're running on two hours of sleep and whatever caffeine you can absorb through sheer desperation.

I'm looking at my laundry basket and I saw a meme recently that said they wish their bank account refilled as fast as their laundry basket, and I was like, "YESSSS." That thing is like a magic trick. Empty it completely, turn around twice, and boom -- it's full again. How? When? Did the clothes multiply while I wasn't looking?

This week has been a masterclass in survival mode. Forget meal planning we've been living on whatever doesn't require more than three ingredients or a microwave. Forget schedules we've been operating on "sick kid time," which is apparently a completely different time zone where nothing makes sense and everything takes twice as long.

But here's what I've learned in the trenches of nurse-mom duty: sometimes the most loving thing you can do is just show up. Even when you're bone tired. Even when you haven't showered and you're wearing the same pajama pants for the third day. Even when you feel like you're failing at everything except keeping a tiny human alive and somewhat comfortable.

My daughter didn't need me to be perfect this week. She needed me to be present. To hold her when her little body hurt. To make her weird food combinations when nothing else sounded good. To watch the same movie seventeen times because it was the only thing that made her smile.

And maybe that's enough. Maybe being the soft place to land during the hard times is actually the most important job in the world, even when it leaves you completely depleted.

Speaking of finding your soft place to land, this UpNature Calm Essential Oil Roll On has been my saving grace during these overwhelming moments. A little aromatherapy stress relief that I can carry in my pocket for those times when I need to remember how to breathe.

Tomorrow she goes back to school, and I'll probably spend the entire day missing her chaos while simultaneously trying to remember what silence sounds like. And then I'll deep clean everything, do fifteen loads of laundry, meal prep like I'm feeding an army, and pretend I have my life together.

Until the next time someone gets sick and my job description changes again.

If you've ever been the nurse-mom running on fumes and pure love, drop a ❤️ and tell me your survival stories. We're all in this beautiful mess together.

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Don't forget to check out my podcasts where we dive deeper into the beautiful chaos of motherhood and finding yourself in the middle of it all.  🎙️

Healing myself one honest moment at a time. And if you're also running on fumes and love today, you're doing better than you think.

Love 🦩 ItsTechNicole