Friday Morning Mayhem

3 a.m. is definitely the witching hour. My toddler was wide awake, bright-eyed, and offering me a sliver of his twin bed like it was a luxury suite. Cute… but no thanks.

Fast forward to 6 a.m.—my son’s father and I are both trying to reclaim some sleep, but somewhere between the “I’m not tired” declarations and dramatic tossing, the toddler monster got hold of the remote, navigated to Paramount+, and casually started watching his profile like he pays rent.

I finally got up, did some yoga, and settled into meditation. The mantra said, “Breathe in. Pause. Listen to what’s around you.”
Wanna guess what I heard?

“Mama is RUDE. If she doesn’t give my pillow back, I’m going to be SO MAD.”
This was followed by a nonstop opening and closing of the dog cage door.

The drama? I asked for my bolster pillow. Keyword: mine.
He had the nerve to tell me, “It doesn’t have your name on it,” before begrudgingly returning it. The audacity.

Now, here I am—tired, yes—but dressed in pink and sitting at my desk in silence. My son was walked to school by his dad, and the quiet is like music. Peace. Stillness.

Despite the chaos, I showed up for myself today.
I breathed. I paused.
And I reminded myself how good it feels to show up.
To be kind to me.
To notice how pretty I look in my pink dress.
Learning to compliment myself and be less of a critic is a work in progress. But it’s progress I’m proud of.