Upon discovering that my tired brain forgot my breast pump parts, I was faced with a decision: a) try to go the entire day without pumping, b) go buy pump parts, or c) go home, where the pump parts live.

Option B seems dumb, because I’m almost done breastfeeding. I suppose I could justify the purchase by saying “I’ll use these with the next kid”. But I really would rather save the money.

Option C means I’d have to pick up the kid from daycare and take him home with me, since driving back to daycare later this afternoon makes zero sense. But having him home with me while I’m working AND have no fuse seems like an irresponsible choice.

So Option A it is!

Once I arrived at that conclusion, I realized I might need breast pads for leaks. No problem, I thought. I put those in my shirt this morning, since I wanted to be prepared for the longer stretches between pumps anyway.

No, Carolyn. You did not put in breast pads. You put in breast pad. As in one, singular, solitary breast pad. Where is the other breast pad, you might wonder? Probably next to my sink, where I left it when my oblivious, tired self wandered away this morning to chase after the tiny tyrant.

Half protected and breasts bulging does not sound safe. ENTER: panty liners! I now have one stuck to the inside of my nursing tank, and I feel ridiculous. But also clever.

We spend so much of our time getting excited about Lewis’ firsts, that sometimes monumental things in our lives get ignored. Well, today I had a first that I’m not super proud of.

For the first time ever, I felt relieved to be rid of Lewis when I dropped him off at daycare.

And I wasn’t happy about leaving him there because it was good for him or he’d have fun. It was because I was so sick of him and his shenanigans this morning that I couldn’t even stand his presence anymore.

I’ve had frustrating moments in the last 13+ months of being Lewis’ mom. Shoot, I have them daily. And my patience is tested constantly, because parenting is just hard sometimes. But I have never before thought to myself, “I can’t even stand to look at my child right now”… until today.

Wow. That’s not easy to say. But I am sharing because I don’t think I’m alone here. I think this happens to moms (and dads!) all the time, but we’re not supposed to admit it.

I think we’re all scared to talk about these moments for fear that people will think we’re bad parents for thinking such things about our children. But I know I’m not a bad mom. I actually know I’m a great mom! Most of the time, I think I’m exactly the mom Lewis needs, and that’s pretty cool. But today I was a tired, angry, frustrated mom. And that doesn’t take away from the 10 billion other moments when I’m the happiest woman on earth, simply because I’m lucky enough to be Lewis’ mom.

Today has not started off well. I was frustrated with my kid, I was frustrated when my foot got stuck in the leg of my pants for a fraction of a second, I was frustrated when my bag of pretzels that I had for breakfast wouldn’t open, I was even frustrated when it took me two attempts to type my computer password. And I’m so tired that I completely forgot to bring my pump parts to work for my breast pump (still not sure what I’m going to do about that one…).

But you guys… I’m still a good mom. Even if I am angry at the world today and my fuse isn’t just short, but already burnt all the way to the end, I’m still doing a good job, because I’m doing my best.

It doesn’t matter that I dropped Lewis off at daycare and muttered to myself, “good riddance”. Because that’s just part of it sometimes. And this afternoon, I’ll be thrilled to pick him up because I will have missed him all day long.

You’d think that after more than a year of irregular sleep, I’d be immune to the frustration.

But I’m not. Lewis woke me up at 4:40, and has still not gone back to sleep. My alarm is set to go off in 20 minutes.

I am so frustrated that I’m on the verge of tears. I just know that I’m going to get him back to sleep just in time to have to wake him up to take him to daycare. And my shot at getting enough sleep is gone.

Somehow I have to function at work while I’m this tired. It’s unbelievable that this kind of fatigue isn’t justification for your world to stop. You are just supposed to keep going.

And my poor baby. He’s going to be so damn tired at school. He won’t get the rest he needs, and that makes me feel like a bad mom. How can I possibly get him up from his much-needed slumber just to take him to daycare? Why can’t I provide him with a different life, where his sleep isn’t dictated by my schedule?

And that’s today’s confession of mommyhood. Keeping it real, folks. This shit isn’t always fun or easy.