My Disheveled Life

I’m a mom.      A happy mom, a sad mom, a confused and lost mom, a day late and a dollar short mom.   I feel all the feels, all the time. My kids were young when I called my middle sister crying.   This is my ‘make it all better’ sister.   Motherhood was kicking my ass, double time.   Her kids at the time were teenagers. As always, she listened to me fall apart, and when I was done she calmly said ‘listen pal, it doesn’t get easier, it gets different’.   What the hell?   Hello! I am calling for encouragement, not this shit.   If I wanted advice with no value I’d go ask one of my friends who doesn’t have kids, or the dog.   I don’t remember what happened next, but I’m pretty predictable.   I’m guessing I called my oldest sister, to talk about the weather and working into the convo, super casually, I would mention the advice I had just been given.   She in turn would have said ‘we’ve all been there Heidi Lindsay’ (she practically raised me so she can call me the wrong name all