I am tired from a lack of sleep that only a mama knows. I am fueled with coffee and thinking of more coffee. I am tired.
As I write about becoming a parent to a tiny human, I think about life right as a stay-at-home-mom to a 2.5-year-old and an 8-month-old. This is not at all where I imagined my life to be at this moment a month and a half away from turning 40. I was recently told by a very very young-looking cashier that 30 was really old; what does that make 40? That’s not the point of this rant.
