Ever had a conversation with a mama friend, and as she’s talking she lets some of the real parts of her life slip out? And you feel that overwhelming sense of relief that you’re not alone?

Somewhere along the way, it was decided that we would hide our imperfections. Only show the good stuff. Not talk about the days we couldn’t handle it…the days we laid down beside our newborns and cried with them. The times we miss our pre-baby life and nights of uninterrupted sleep. When I decided to start a blog, I decided I would be real about mamahood. I would be real about the days I was a great mama, and even realer about the days I wasn’t.

Because sometimes we need to talk about the crazy, exhausting, I-let-him-eat-pizza-again-tonight-to-avoid-a-fight days.

Let’s invite the real in. Sit it down on the couch between the dust bunnies and crushed up fruit loops and show it off. Because as women and mamas we can lift each other up. We can cheer each other on. Because we live in the real. The sleepless nights of wondering whether or not we’re doing a good job. Is she getting enough milk? Did I teach him anything today? We’ve waded through the piles of laundry. We’ve begged for a break. And we need to know that other mamas feel the same way we do.

We know about the impromptu dance parties in the living room. The grins and giggles that melt your heart. We know that even when we’re tired, it’s so worth it. And that these stages don’t last long. That time flies when you have kids.

But that doesn’t mean you should feel guilty about wanting a break.

So share your real, Mama.

Here’s a bit of mine:

Our lunch today ended in tears. Hudson decided his spoon was better suited for tossing chili across the table. I told him to stop. He said no. There in lies the real. I can’t get my toddler to stop telling me no. So I said a quick prayer and dove into the battle of the wills that parents rarely win. By the end of it, he asked to put his head on my shoulder. So with chili covered face and hands, my toddler wrapped his little arms around my neck and said, “sowwy”. We sat there like that for a while. And I thought about how glad I am that mamahood isn’t graded.

Also, I have dirty dishes in my sink from lunch and dinner. I’ll get to them after the four loads of laundry…maybe.

What’s your real?