Do you ever find yourself sitting in a Jimmy John’s parking lot with three kids in the back seat, two of them munching away on their turkey and cheese, you with tears streaming down your cheeks, and wonder just how it got to the point where you are doing it all so very wrong?

When twenty minutes ago, you had the two big girls arguing in the bathtub, and you were sitting in the corner, squished next to the toilet, nursing the baby, your head spinning with the list of all the things you are failing at.

The dirty dishes in the sink.

The toys strewn all over the floor in every room.

The empty fridge bc you never have time to shop for more than a day’s worth of groceries. Not that you ever have time to really cook.

The crap all over the car that just keeps getting bigger and grosser because try as you might, you can only carry so much with an infant seat and a diaper bag and shopping bags and a two year old.

The baby’s room which, while she sleeps in your room, is literally a glorified laundry heap where everyone in the family goes to search for clean clothes because by the time the kids are finally settled in to bed and asleep, it’s 9:00, and you have to start working.

The fact that you haven’t gone out alone with your husband since October of 2011.

The fact that the woman looking back at you in the mirror looks homeless because you never have time to

even look for something decent to wear and even if you did, it would be covered with milk or vomit within minutes.

The fact that your two year old knows that McDonalds sells chicken and you are so ashamed of that fact.

But you get it done. You get them dressed, you get them out the door, all three are safe in their car seats after you ran half way around the neighborhood chasing the toddler and lugging the baby seat while the almost five year old is literally stopping to smell every single flower.

And you hear the news. You know people were killed in horrific storms yesterday. You know those are people’s moms and dads, children and spouses. And you know things could be so much worse. You know you should hold on to what you have with dear life. But this time, all it reminds you of is your own lack of a basement and instead of being grateful, you instead lie in bed all night with visions of your children being crushed when the house falls on them in a tornado and you get so mad at all the people in your subdivision who short sold their houses leaving you unable to move because your house is worth about as much as a stick of gum and a tooth pick.

And then you realize that it doesn’t matter how much you try to think positive or write it out or talk it out. There will be no happy little ending to the story today.

Because some days you just fail. And that really really sucks.