I love reading books. I love reading and envisioning where the writer is, most times I imagine them at some fancy desk or office building, or on a relaxing park bench-sipping their latte and writing down their thoughts. I envy those who have the limitless opportunity to do those things.

Today I write to you from my couch, surrounded by all-things-pink and it's a wreck. There are baby dolls everywhere. All toys have been dumped on the floor because who wants a clean living room? Don't we all want to step on tiny hairbrushes and blocks? I'm amazed I haven't received permanent scarring from those darn things. I'm exhausted and I'm frustrated reading about how things should always be pristine; how more organizers and bins will help my clutter. I have toy boxes and a play castle and containers and you know what they all do? Those suckers lay empty because my daughter has to take everything out before deciding what she really wants. If the toys are all away, that means there are no children playing. That isn't motherhood and that damn sure shouldn't be life. Where's my Pinterest hack for that?

We don't always get our kids to bed on time. We don't always keep things away that shouldn't be touched, the kids touch it all. Seriously. . . how do they get the knobs off the cupboards so fast? How do they always find the one thing you forgot to trash or stash? I'm guilty of doing so many things I never thought I would as a parent. I've turned the TV on for an extra 10, or even 20 minutes — OK long enough for her to watch Matilda — just so I could fold the laundry without it magically being thrown from the basket. I've cried with my two year old because we were both tired; I'm not sure who was more upset, me or her. I've left dishes "soaking" in the sink for more than a day. Hey, extra clean now, right? I've fallen asleep with crusty eyeliner and butterfly hair-clips in my hair from my daughter’s heartfelt makeover. I lose things just based off of pure exhaustion. The stuffed animals multiply in the night and I think they hide my car keys and some days my sanity too. I forget things that were my idea to plan.

I don't know where this obsession and unrealistic expectation of perfection comes in. We all go through hard times and sometimes we have to be thrown into the deep end to learn how to swim. I have learned the most about myself in the nights where I didn't think my brain could take anymore, when my eyes were asking for sleep but my mind was on full speed. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? The moment when you’re so overwhelmed, making yourself dizzy from all the thinking, just dying for one unfettered moment in time. One night where I don't have to get another drink for a thirsty child or spring from the bathtub because my child had a bad dream, drenching the floor and almost killing myself racing to grab her before she wakes the rest of the house. True story.

Life is happening between the blips we see on social media, it happens at 3 a.m. Life happens when we cry and we hug. Life happens when we sleep curled up in a toddler bed with princess sheets even though we spent money on $60 pillows we haven't used in a week. Life happens when we are presented with challenges, and sometimes those challenges are small like how the heck you get chocolate pudding off the white sweater and sometimes those challenges entail harder lessons like explaining to your 2-year-old why mommy now sleeps alone. This job is a hard one. This job doesn't come with an instruction manual. Sometimes we are just making it from one bedtime to another, but in between those moments of disaster and peace we are loving our way through it because like they say, "Real life looks lived in."

It's OK to be selfish some days. It's okay to turn off your brain and soak in the bathtub. It’s okay to sneak the last cookie hidden in the bathroom away from your tiny human who eats more than your fridge can fill. You gave them three already, it's OK to say no. You give all that you have into everyone else; friends, family, kids, coworkers and even strangers get your every benefit and some days you look in the mirror and forget who you are under all those titles.

You aren't alone and let me just remind you that you aren't special in this regard. Face it sister, you are not the first mom who stood in her living room surrounded by disaster and felt defeated. You aren't the only mom who shows up to the birthday party with good intentions and a missing gift because you couldn't stand to make the trip to the store during nap time. You're not the first mom to be late getting her child to school, and they won't be scarred for life in the way you let yourself feel they will. You're not the only one who's ever felt the way you do today. Sorry to say this, but you're normal.

We are a tribe of women banning together to raise the next generation of caretakers and incredible beings. We are blessed, and our children are loved and cared for just by being ours. Maybe your children are older, maybe they grace you with the sleep and patience to handle it all day-by-day, and if that's true then lend a hand to a mom in need. We have all been there. Encourage a fellow momma to lift their head above the sea of Barbies and building blocks and put their feet up, remind them that they deserve it. Remind them that reality hits every home and behind the social media posts and clean rooms, there was once a momma losing her shit. You're not special.