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It started before we even got out of bed.
The baby woke up early — like, is-this-even-morning early. The toddler immediately demanded cereal but only the red bowl would do. And of course, the red bowl was missing because it was still in yesterday’s pile of dishes that I swore I’d get to but didn’t.
Cue: meltdown number one.
I scrambled eggs with one hand, bounced the baby on my hip with the other, and attempted to referee a fight over a toy no one cared about until the exact second someone else touched it.
By 8:17 AM, someone had spilled milk across the entire kitchen floor, someone else had drawn on the wall with a crayon (still unclear who), and I had snapped — not loud, but sharp enough that I watched my toddler’s face crumple a little before he stomped away.
It was one of those mornings that feels like it’s out to get you.
I stood there in the middle of the kitchen — milk dripping off the counter, baby squawking, my own heart racing — and thought, This is not what mornings are supposed to look like.
I wanted to fix it. Clean it. Calm it. Make it look “normal” again.
But in that moment, I realised something: maybe the goal isn’t to avoid the messy mornings. Maybe the goal is just to move through them.
Maybe surviving a meltdown morning is just as much a parenting win as orchestrating a picture-perfect playdate.
I don’t think we talk enough about the emotional whiplash that happens when you’re trying to meet everyone’s needs all at once.
You’re managing nap schedules, breakfast battles, sibling squabbles, your own inner dialogue, and whatever invisible mental to-do list is screaming at you from the back of your mind.
It’s no wonder the smallest spill can feel like a final straw.
It’s no wonder you snap even when you swore today would be different.
Motherhood isn’t just physically exhausting. It’s emotionally loud. And that noise leaks out in ways we don’t always want it to.
Instead of shouting instructions from the kitchen, I went and found my toddler.
I sat down next to him on the floor, where he was dramatically draped across the hallway like the ghost of breakfast battles past.
“That was a rough morning, hey?” I said quietly.
He didn’t say anything. Just leaned his head against my shoulder. It was enough.
I apologised for snapping. He nodded. We breathed. And then, like kids always do, he bounced back faster than I could.
“Mummy, want to help me find the red bowl?” he asked.
So we did.
We found the red bowl. Washed it together. Made a second breakfast. Cleaned up the milk with way too many paper towels. Ate soggy cereal at 9AM.
Not because we “fixed” the morning. But because we found each other in the middle of it.
It’s tempting to treat mornings like checklists: Get everyone fed. Get everyone dressed. Get everyone out the door.
But sometimes, the real “work” of the morning isn’t ticking the boxes.
Sometimes, it’s:
Repairing a moment of disconnection
Choosing patience when you have none left
Laughing through the chaos instead of crying (although crying is fine too)
Letting the schedule bend so the relationship doesn’t break
It’s not glamorous. It’s not Instagrammable. But it’s real. An
There are days when parenting feels like Pinterest. And then there are days when it feels like survival mode with a splash of “what even is happening.”
Both are normal. Both are okay.
You’re not failing because you had a meltdown morning. You’re not failing because you lost your cool or forgot the red bowl or served scrambled eggs that were a little rubbery.
You’re still showing up. Still trying. Still loving them in the middle of the milk spills and tantrums and sharp-edged moments.
And honestly? That’s enough.
That’s more than enough.
Because survival, connection, and repair — those are the real wins no one claps for. But they’re the ones that build a childhood worth remembering.
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