I stay up way too late most nights—not because I don’t need sleep, but because it’s the only time that belongs to me.

After the last cup is rinsed and the final child has settled (sometimes after one more water, one more hug, one more meltdown), I find myself curled up with a book I’ve already read twice, binge-watching a show that reminds me who I was before I had to split myself into so many roles. Or I crochet. Row after row, knot after knot, trying to stitch love into something that might outlast this season.

That quiet? It’s sacred. It’s mine.

But morning comes early. It always does. Before little feet start running and juice boxes start flying, I’m answering emails, returning calls, trying to pretend I’m rested and ready when I’m really just rehearsed.

The tradeoff? Permanent under-eye luggage. Concealed with caffeine patches (chocolate brown, because obviously I’m classy like that) or makeup if I have the energy. Most days, it’s both.

This morning, already on the edge, I spilled my one sacred, steaming hot, collagen-boosted, fiber-fortified cup of coffee…All over my foot. All over my camera. All over the twice-mopped floor that barely survived Harper’s Capri Sun rampage last week.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just stared at the mess, hands in the air like some dramatic character in a movie who finally snaps… and then kept going.

It wasn’t until much later, while trying to rejoin the human race with a little concealer and mascara, that one of my kids gasped and asked, “What’s on your face?!”

Spoiler: it wasn’t exhaustion they were reacting to it was the literal brown patches I forgot to peel off but instead just put make up over. A fashion statement I wasn’t going for.

It was that moment it became clear to me 

This is motherhood.

This is womanhood.

Where self-care and survival hold hands. Where you steal moments in the dark just to feel like yourself again. Where you give away pieces of your time, your energy, your body, your sanity—and still wonder if it’s enough.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not always graceful. But it’s deeply, unapologetically real.

And if caffeine patches and cold coffee are the price of a life filled with sticky hugs, whispered “I love yous,” and the constant sound of little feet…I think I can live with that.