It isn't supposed to be like this.
Thanks to serial childbirth and adoption, I was suddenly home with three children between the ages of two and four and a half. One day blurring into the next, I was overwhelmed by crying, laundering, fussing, feeding, bathing, and diapering.
And there were also the children's needs.
One afternoon, during the magical two minutes in which all three naps overlapped, it hit me: It isn't supposed to be like this.
Didn't women in days of old raise children and grow vegetables and bake bread together? If memory served, Laura Ingalls Wilder's mom did not wake up wondering, How much time can I kill today at the McDonald's climbing structure?
Around the same season of my life, feeling very lonely, I first learned the (now antiquated) phrase "web log."
Enter the mommy bloggers.
Over the last decade, mommy bloggers have taken off. Mashable reports that almost four million North American moms—one in seven—are blogging, with millions more reading. Whether sipping coffee over a tablet before leaving for the office, or peeking at smartphones while kids play at the park, millions of mothers today are getting our needs met in the virtual presence of other moms.
Worst. Mom. Ever.
A few days after Jen Hatmaker's May 2013 "Worst End of School Year Mom Ever" post went crazy-viral, an administrator at my kids' elementary school forwarded the post to a "select" group of parents. (Her carefully selected "worst moms" list? Possibly.)1