Here she is again—the anxious mama in me. Overwhelmed. Defeated. Tense. Weary.
I know my kids feel my angst and anxiety. They can see it in my face, my tired eyes, and in the tone of my voice. They see it by the way I move around. It’s in the air of our home.
“Stop it. Don’t do that.”
“Ugh, another spill? Come on.”
“Now what’s the matter?”
“Leave your brother alone.”