In case you're wondering what it's like juggling four kids, ages four and under – let me tell you.
Child #1 has a fever. She was up ALL night. She's also cutting teeth, so that's special.
Child #2 is three weeks old and up every two hours to eat, pee and poop per usual.
Child #3 has a horrendous cough. Thanks, allergies.
Child #4 is at preschool until noon.
And the hubby is gone for the first time since bringing home our littlest love from the hospital.
There's a golf ball-sized lump in my throat as he pulls out of the driveway and heads to work.
I wave goodbye through the window and head back to the kitchen where I think I might cry.
Then, just when I think I may literally die from sleep deprivation and the permanent burning sensation in my eyes, my sister texts me.
"On my way. Bringing coffee."
I try telling her no.
I say I don't need anything.
But on her way to work, my nine-months-pregnant sis picks up an extra hot, extra strong, extra delicious mocha from the local coffee shop down the street along with fresh-baked cinnamon rolls as big as my head with at least a pound of sweet, cream cheese frosting heaped on each one.
She doesn't chat. She just walks in the house, drops off the goods and leaves as quickly as she came.
She can tell I'm overwhelmed. She can see it in my bloodshot eyes. There's no denying it, even though I insist I'M FINE.
But then I see that hot coffee and bag of rolls waiting for me, and I think to myself, "Dang. I'm lucky."
Not necessarily because I have this delicious breakfast that was delivered to me, but because I was seen.
Someone recognized and knew, despite me insisting otherwise, that today was a hard day and this chapter in "the Book of Motherhood" is overwhelming.
I hope you all have someone in your life who sees you, even and especially when it's hard. Because the truth is, we don't always have it all together. And every now and then, we need people to show up and meet us where we are.
Bonus points if they bring coffee and rolls.
PS: Thanks, sis.
This post originally appeared on ShelleySkuster.com