Ankur came home around 8pm last night. He’s been working 12+ hour shifts lately and we’re both feeling the effects of it.

Him, tired and depleted from a long day with patients. Me, tired and depleted from a long day with baby.

He walked into our apartment while I was in our bedroom, putting Ishu to sleep. He walked in to this scene. Dominoes and Legos spread out across the living room floor. Books pulled off the shelf. Balls and toys all over the place.

I was too exhausted to sit there, too tapped out to hover over Ishu as he put piece by piece back where they belong. So, instead, I swooped him up, quickly did the bedtime routine and told myself I’d put it all away after he went to bed. (Sometimes there are teaching moments. And sometimes there are moments you want to do it yourself after your kid goes to sleep because it’s easier).

Ankur texted me while the baby was drifting off. “Is he asleep?” he asked. Ankur was home. Wanting to make sure the baby wasn’t awake before he walked into the bedroom to change his clothes.

“Yes,” I texted back. And then I immediately cringed. Feeling the guilt of him walking into our tornado of a living room.

You see, I grew up with a mama who did it all. I watched as she cooked fresh, healthy meals every night.

Watched as those dirty pots and pans were miraculously clean and put away before we walked into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning.

There was never a cup casually sitting out on the coffee table. Never dishes air-drying in the rack.

Everything was immaculate and perfect.

And, every day, as I look around this crazy living room, I am reminded I simply cannot.

The Dominoes remained on the floor while Ankur and I ate dinner on the couch. Him eating leftover pasta (which he had already eaten at lunch). Me eating cereal, first out of the box and then eventually realizing milk would be nice, pouring it in a bowl.

No fresh meals.

No clean living room.

And, as we both got down on our hands and knees to pick up the Dominoes and Legos after our dinners were done, I reminded myself – once again – that this is life.

We can’t do it all. Nobody can. And to hold myself to this unattainable standard is beyond crazy. 

I think we’re all doing this to some extent. Trying to be the mom and wife our moms were. But times are different. The village that was available to them is not always available to us. And we canNOT single-handedly do it alone. 

So, yeah, sometimes our living room will be a mess and sometimes we eat cereal for dinner.

And that’s OKAY. More than okay.

The guilt comes and goes. But I just kindly remind it to back the eff off. Some might argue that a messy house and a sink full of dishes is just a reminder that you have your priorities straight.