When the Bowl Breaks…
Today started like any other — with a plan. You know, the kind of plan that looks good on paper but then meets real life and throws its hands up like, “Yeah, no thanks.”
There were kids going in five different directions (why do they all need to be somewhere at the same time?), a house that looked like it had been auditioning for a reality show called America’s Dustiest Corners, a lawn that was less "summer chic" and more "haunted field," and, of course, a car blinking furiously for AdBlue as if it knew I had 14 other things to do.
Also on the to-do list? Move my body intentionally (a.k.a. exercise), focus on better food choices (buckwheat pancakes count, right?), and not cope with stress by pouring a glass of wine and pretending it’s self-care. I’m working on that last one — because I know that losing weight and finding healthier ways to cope with life’s chaos matters more than a temporary glass of Pinot and an Instagram-worthy moment of “relaxation.”
But here’s the kicker. After doing all the things — all the pick-ups, drop-offs, sweat, guilt, and errands — I came home to a scene straight out of a dark comedy.
The bowl. The one bowl I didn’t get to wash before dashing out the door? Yeah, it was shattered all over the kitchen floor. Not just broken — shattered. With dried buckwheat pancake batter clinging to it like a cruel reminder that I tried to be “healthy” today. And the dog? Oh, he was living his best life. Lying on the cool floor vent, clearly proud of his abstract kitchen installation art, probably wondering if buckwheat batter is the next big dog treat trend.
So, what’s the moral here? I don’t know — maybe there isn’t one. Maybe the point is that some days are just a lot. They’re messy, broken, hot, chaotic, and somehow still filled with love, small wins, and the kind of strength that looks like showing up, even when the pieces are scattered on the floor.
So if today felt hard, know this: you’re not alone. You’re not failing. You’re not weak. You’re doing the incredibly hard, often invisible, always underappreciated work of showing up — for your family, your life, and yourself.
And maybe tomorrow the bowl won’t break. But even if it does, you’ll still be here — ruling the chaos, one imperfect moment at a time.
How do you cope with chaotic days? Drop your best (or most ridiculous) coping strategies in the comments — I need new material! 😂
