It’s been a hot minute since my last post, and not because I didn’t have something to say—trust me, I’ve had plenty—but because sometimes life demands you put everything down, take a deep breath, and just show up. And this past month? It’s felt like I’ve been living in a sitcom no one told me I was starring in.
Picture this: We’re deep into cold and flu season, except this time it’s not just a runny nose here and there. Oh no, it’s been strep throat, pneumonia, and a surgery for tubes and adenoids thrown in for good measure. The kind of month where you walk into the pediatrician’s office so many times they greet you by name and ask if you want “your usual room.”
The days blur together in a haze of checking temperatures, measuring out antibiotics, soothing cries, and juggling work deadlines from the corner of the couch while a feverish child dozes on your shoulder. I’ll admit there were a few days when I wasn’t sure if my kids were crying because they didn’t feel well or if I was crying because I didn’t know how much more I could juggle. It’s in these moments—standing in the kitchen at 3 a.m. stirring honey into tea for the hundredth time—that you think, This is motherhood. Right here.
And then there was the puppy.
Yes, because life wasn’t chaotic enough, we decided to bring home a snuggly, adorable puppy. To be fair, we needed her. After saying goodbye to our beloved family dog of 11 years—our steady, loyal companion—there was an emptiness in the house that only a puppy’s energy could fill. And she delivered, all right. She’s the sweetest thing… when she’s sleeping. But when she’s awake? She’s a hurricane in a fur coat, with razor-sharp shark teeth and a personal vendetta against my Christmas decorations.
The puppy chaos was manageable—sort of—until the night my husband decided to raise the stakes.
It was 8:30 p.m. The kids were finally calm, the puppy was (miraculously) chewing something acceptable, and I thought, for the first time that day, I might get a second to breathe. And then I heard it.
“I think I need to get on the roof.”
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I hear those words, my immediate response is not, “Great idea, honey!” It’s, What fresh hell is this?
You see, my husband had decided, in all his wisdom, that this was the perfect time to adjust the Starlink satellite. Yes, because at that very moment, internet speeds were clearly the most pressing issue in our lives. And since I’m a team player (or at least I didn’t want him to break his neck), there I was, out in the cold, holding a ladder steady and staring up at the man I love while questioning all my life choices.
Before climbing, he offered me the kind of “safety briefing” that only a man who’s never fallen off a roof would think was appropriate.
“If I fall, don’t catch me. Just get out of the way and call 911.”
Oh, okay. Thanks for the clear instructions. You’re really putting my mind at ease.
For a moment, I stood there, listening to the ladder creak, watching his flashlight wobble across the shingles, and trying not to picture the worst. But finally, I snapped. I looked up, my patience and my sanity both teetering dangerously close to collapse, and yelled, “Well, babe, not tonight. Get off the damn roof. Starlink can wait.”
And in that moment, I meant it. Because when you’ve spent a month comforting sick kids, battling fevers, holding a recovering child, wrangling a puppy, moving a mischievous elf, and trying to keep work and Christmas afloat, the last thing you need is your husband dangling off the edge of the house like a grown-up version of Clark Griswold.
That night, when I finally convinced him to come down and we sat in the living room together—puppy chewing a toy, kids miraculously asleep—I looked around and thought: This is us. Messy, chaotic, and sometimes absolutely ridiculous, but us.
Motherhood, marriage, and life don’t play out like a curated Instagram reel. It’s raw. It’s loud. It’s moments of feeling like you’re losing your mind while simultaneously being so grateful for everything around you. It’s sitting up late at night nursing a feverish child who only wants you. It’s chasing a puppy through the house with a stolen sock. It’s standing under a ladder, yelling at your husband to get off the roof because, for the love of God, we’ve had enough excitement for one month.
And it’s in these moments—the ones we don’t post about, the ones that leave us tired and teetering—that we’re actually creating the best memories. Someday, I’ll laugh about holding that ladder. Someday, I’ll remember this puppy’s shark teeth with fondness. Someday, I’ll miss those nights when my kids still wanted me to hold them close when they didn’t feel well.
For now, though, I’m surviving the chaos one day (and one box of Amazon Prime deliveries) at a time. Prancer the Elf is still moving—barely. The puppy is still chewing—constantly. And my husband is safely off the roof.
So to the moms out there: I see you. I know you’re balancing sick kids, endless laundry, holiday magic, work deadlines, and the kind of moments that make you want to laugh and cry all at once. You’re not alone, and you’re doing an incredible job.
And if you’ve got tips for keeping the puppy from destroying Christmas, brilliant Elf on the Shelf ideas, or ways to keep husbands off ladders at night, I’m all ears.
Because we Boss Moms? We hold the ladders, keep the magic alive, and somehow—somehow—make it all work.
What’s the wildest thing you’ve had to juggle lately? Share your “you can’t make this up” moments in the comments—whether it’s husbands on roofs, puppy madness, or kids who’ve pushed you to the brink (and back again).
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