“I don’t know how you do it.”
The words came from my husband’s mouth. “I don’t know how you all do everything that you do.” He was talking about moms.
“I couldn’t do it.”
He said he couldn’t do everything that moms do. Cook, clean, hold it together while tiny dictators are screaming at you. He went on to talk about one of the ladies he works with. He said that night shift is hard enough, but this woman, this mom, she moms all day and works all night. He said that nights can make the nicest person an ass, but this woman stays her sweet, mild self.
“I think moms are made to not sleep and just keep going.”
These words came from my husband’s mouth. I’m glad he’s mine.