I’m officially on Spring Break. It’s a relief to know that I’ll have two weeks at home with my children–a three year old and an eight month old. Parenthood is grueling, but it’s the best kind of grueling there is because it’s yours. Somehow I find the superhuman strength to do things I never thought physically possible. I wash bottles and do the dishes after both girls go to bed when I’m too tired to even blink. I use my toes to pick up a spoon on the floor while holding my crying baby in one arm and using my free hand to manually pump breastmilk while also standing on my head and reciting poems by William Blake. I vacuum up crumbs from under the dining room table while wiping spit-up off my shirt, brushing my older daughter’s teeth, changing my younger daughter’s diaper, all the while juggling five tennis balls on my elbows. You get the point. I do it all. And why do I do it? Definitely because I have to, but also because I want to. And I do it because I love my children so dearly and deeply that there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. Except for the laundry.

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