I'm not perfect. If you read my stories, you have read about my failures. You have also read our joys and triumphs.

But you will never see perfection. Because none of us are perfect. Least of all me.

I have made mistakes. Some huge. Some kind of funny. Some minor. Some maybe weren't mistakes at all once I looked at them after everyone stopped crying and all the poop was cleaned up.

At least once a day I stop and change coarse. Because I want to do better. I want to do right by my kids.

But I sometimes muddle through just keeping them alive. Like the last four days.

Thankfully they have already forgiven me. But I have to ask them for it. I have to apologize. They deserve that.

But I also deserve to forgive myself. So that starts now.

While there are days when I am on. Days when we are so in sync that I feel like freeging Wonder Woman. Or like I might win the mom Olympics. There are other days when it feels as though I can do nothing right. When all I want to do is hide. When the idea of pushing through another day tweaked on coffee catches up with me. Those are the days I write the least about. Because who wants to remember their shit days? Not me.

I have been a bit of a sad sack this week. In a funk, if you will.  Daddy, the kidlets and I are all fine. In fact, we are kind of awesome. We are in a great place. But there is more life outside the walls of this house. And it's out there that has got me in it's clutches.

Dudes, I have been  flat out moping along for almost a week now. Moping, shuffling, staring off and not present. And guess what happened?

My kids noticed. And they responded in kind the way that kids will do.

They lost their ever loving minds.

Sad Mama Pants was all, "Ahhh! Why are you two trying to kill each other? Stop ripping the art off the walls! OMG what???? Why are you grinding your cereal bar into the carpet? Did you for real just PEE into that picnic basket? CALGON TAKE ME AWAY!!!!"

And the kids were both all, "We have no idea why you are such a crazy person and it kind of scares us because you are not acting like our mama. So because we are confused and think you have been body snatched, we are going to lose our shit, woman! Bring our mama back or by george we will burn this house down. "

So, yeah,  I have to do what mamas have been doing for eons before me. I have to buck the fuck up. Or at least fake it til I make it. Because well, there is not one clean dish in this house, the floors looks like my fridge threw up all over them and the living room is unpassable. But more importantly, my kids need to know that mama's ok. All little people need to know that from their parents. When I was training people in how to work with children I always started with a story about body language and how kids are experts in reading it. Experts. It was their first language. I would ask them to always be concious of the language they were speaking with their body.

It's time to take my own advice. Life gets messy sometimes. We have to allow ourselves to wither and let the snot drip. There is a time for that. Oh yes, there most certainly is. But there is also a time to get up off your butt and move your legs in a forward motion.

So, I'm forcing my chin up. Not just a little up. All the way up. I will hold it there with duct tape if I have to. Because I have dishes to do. And babes to kiss and hug and read books to.

Life does not stop. Love does not stop. But sadness and funks? They do.

Say hello to every dish in my house. I'm about to kick their ass.