We had a really really hard morning. REALLY REALLY HARD.

I am not a morning person in general (if you know me well I’m sure you’re laughing already), so mornings with 3 kiddos that need to get to school start off a little dicey anyway. But this morning was much harder than most.

Why? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. The backpacks were packed, clothes were laid out, I got up before the kids for a little time to myself, nothing was super different about today.

Maybe it’s the weather? (I mean, honestly, it is APRIL EIGHTH can we move on from the dreary cold snow/rain grossness?) Maybe because my son just woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Maybe because I got distracted by something else? The truth is, the why of this morning really doesn’t matter all that much because those are all things that could happen any morning and if there is one thing that I can expect with my kids, it’s that things will almost never go according to plan.

What did matter - I wasn’t the mom I wanted to be, or that I expect myself to be. I wasn’t patient or kind or understanding in the way that I feel like I should be and am a lot of the time. After I dropped off the kids I felt icky and sad and frustrated with myself for all of that.

And then.

I mobile ordered my coffee to the wrong location. Silly, right? Not a super huge deal. But this morning it felt like the absolute last straw and I just cried. And then I asked the barista what to do and she said they would just remake it and I cried a little then too, because sometimes somebody being nice to you when you’re having a hard morning does that.

*^^ a mom (ok, its me) having a hard morning, but at least she has coffee*

Then I told my friends about it and they chimed in with knowing how much that sucked and they were sorry I had a tough morning and they love me. (Those kinds of friends are super important, I hope you have some.)

Then I walked home and just let myself feel that for a little bit. I let myself sink into being sad for a while. And thought about what to do with it.

And then - and this is the important part - I forgave myself.

Don’t get me wrong - the way I responded this morning wasn’t great. I still don’t feel good about it. It isn’t the house I want my kids to grow up in, it isn’t the mom I want them to remember now or when they’re older, and it doesn’t feel congruent with the person I am.

But being angry or punishing myself further isn’t going to get me there either. Keeping the expectation that I can and should act flawlessly all the time isn’t what I need. That’s going to add more pressure, so that when I inevitably don’t respond the best (because let’s be honest, that is GOING to happen sometimes) it’s going to feel like another failure.

Showing myself forgiveness and compassion WILL get me closer to those things that I want my kids to know and experience. And it sets a pretty darn good example for them too.

It will show my kids that even when they are snarly and icky with me, we can come together again because that’s the example I show them when I’m snarly and icky, and we all love each other even with snarly and icky parts because we all have them. It will show them that we can make mistakes and apologize and forgive. It will show them that I, and other people, and they, deserve love and good things even when they aren’t perfect.

It will cause less distress for me today and other days because I can admit (publicly and just to myself) that perfect really just isn’t possible, as much as I would like it to be. Yes, we are parents and it is our job to try to raise good people and set good examples for them. But we’re also humans, and we’re allowed to be imperfect humans and parents at the same time.

So Emily, why oh why are you droning on about this? Because here’s what I want you to know: Sometimes, things are just hard.

Really: Sometimes. Things. Are. Just. Hard.

Even when you do all the preparation, even when you have all the tools, even when you know all the things. Sometimes, things are just hard.

It doesn’t mean you, or I, are failing. It doesn’t mean we aren’t trying hard enough. It doesn’t mean that the things we are doing aren’t working. It doesn’t mean that we don’t love our kids or are crappy parents or are irrevocably screwing up our kids on the daily or any of the other places that our brains go.

It means that sometimes, things are just HARD.

And knowing that releases a lot of pressure and judgment, and a lot of the icky that comes along with mornings like today. I can’t change what happened this morning. I can’t go back in time and make the choices that I would have wanted to. I can’t control that, as much as I’d like to. The control I have now is what to do with that going forward. It’s not the control I want, but it is the control that I have.

I can also choose to notice the things that I did do and could control. I eventually got us to school. I connected with friends about it that I knew would support and validate me. I moved my body because that is an important way for me to process things and I know that about myself. I let myself cry and feel my feelings. I acknowledged the pressure I feel and accepted what that is and what I can do about it. And I wrote about it, because for me sharing with others (even if just one single mom feels a tiny itty bitty little bit of validation or connection or slight shift of pressure lifting) makes a difference too.

The time that I had this morning to connect with friends and feel and move and then process and write isn’t always possible. I rarely have the time to do all of that. But that’s also an important piece of doing this when you can, to release a bit of that pressure for the other times when you can’t, or working in little bits of it even if it isn’t everything that you would do in an ideal situation. Or even just reminding yourself that sometimes, things are just hard. Some of the things is better than none of the things. Again, perfection isn’t possible, either in our reactions or our coping.