Dear Mother of a New Baby,
Can I be weird for a second? I mean, you might not know me, and I might not know you, but I’ve been there done that in the taking-care-of-a-newborn department.
So. Let’s pretend I have a magic wand. (How do you know I don’t?)
I *wish* I could use it to magically give your older children wisdom beyond their years.
I *wish* I could use it to make that gorgeous newborn both indestructible and free from any and all health issues.
I *wish* I could use it to make that gorgeous newborn both indestructible and free from any and all health issues.
I *wish* I could use it to give mind-reading powers to your closest supports, so they could tell what you need without you telling them.
And then, I’d love to use it to get you a solid ten hours of sleep.
Unfortunately, my magic wand isn’t quite that cool.
But what it *can* do… Is take away every single shred of that mom-guilt about all the things you aren’t doing. All of it.
Poof, gone.
No more.
And as a bonus, it can also show you how 20 years from now, you will see just how amazing you are. It can show you how your kids will actually end up being friends down the road. The same toddler who’s going out of her mind with jealousy may very well end up comforting that same sibling several years from now when he realizes that someday she’ll grow up.
“It’s okay, Buddy, I’ll always be your sister!”
(True story. That was someone I know in real life and it happened today.)
My magic wand can show wonderful your kids are, and how lucky they are that you help them survive every single day. It can show you how remarkable it is that you love them even when it’s hard.
I saved the best for last, though.
This magic wand can give you such a tremendous sense of accomplishment, JUST in nurturing these kids, that any thought of failure is pretty laughable, really.
Even if the dishes are in the sink.
Even if the laundry is out of control.
Even if all the other stuff didn’t get done.
Even if all the other stuff didn’t get done.
Even if you’re tired and overwhelmed and whatever other hard stuff comes with the territory.
Truly. None of that is your primary job right now. It’s not even secondary. Anyone who tells you different is off their rockers crazy. 
Athletes get sweaty. They don’t look glamorous when they’re in the thick of it. They probably swear at least in their own heads, when it’s hard. You are smack in the middle of the messy-athlete stage of motherhood, and you have permission to quit caring about things that won’t matter ten years from now.
I *promise* it gets easier.
So. Love and nurture those babies, and *glaring, mean coach-face* put as much energy as you can back into self care so you can run this race again tomorrow. And hopefully you have backup. Don’t be afraid to make a dream list of your wants and ask for help getting them.
Glamorous things, like showers.
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Our littlest is pushing six months, and you’d love her if you knew her. Thanks!