Raising 3 kids under 3 isn't a small thing. I've learned that over and over in the past 6 months. But I'm not a hero.
When I leave the house with the kids, I get flooded with comments, stares, and praise. A big double stroller with a toddler riding in tow is certainly hard to miss.
"Go mama! I don't know how you do it!"
"Better you than me. I'm overwhelmed just looking at you!"
"I can't believe you get out!"
"You are my hero, mama!"
I appreciate the compliments. I'm proud that I feel capable of taking our kids out. And yet, sometimes I feel something else. I'm not sure of the word. It's not exactly embarrassed. Maybe undeserving? I mean, the reality is this: This life is exactly what I signed up for. Literally. I physically signed a paper to transfer to strong, beautiful embryos to my body with a 18 month old baby at home. None of this was a surprise. I dreamed of it. I cried for it. I wished with all my being that I would have the opportunity to raise a family.
It's a lot of work, and planning, and coordination. Getting out of the house often feels like a 3-ring circus. Bottles, diapers, extra outfits, snacks, toys...it's an entirely different level of effort than tossing a baby in the stroller and heading out for a few errands. But like I said, I signed up for it. And I love it.
Today I'm not showered. I am wearing clothes I grabbed off the floor because I got barfed on this morning. I honestly couldn't tell you what I've eaten today besides animal crackers and coffee. I'm definitely not a hero. But I love these kids like crazy. Most days I do my best. Many days I fall short. And that's that.