I go downstairs. The kitchen looks like a crime scene. There are dishes in the sink. There is a mysterious sticky substance on the remote control. The dog has eaten a sock.
I do not clean it. Not yet.
I begin cooking dinner. Cooking dinner with children is like trying to perform surgery in a mosh pit. They are under my feet. They are asking for snacks while I am chopping onions. The baby is pulling on my pant leg. The smoke alarm goes off because I forgot to open the window. mom pov full
But we are also the luckiest people on earth. We get to witness the entire arc of a human life from the very first breath. We get to be the landing pad for every tear, the cheerleader for every victory, the band-aid for every scraped knee. I go downstairs