I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning to the sound of Five Little Ducks — again.
Aubree was in full concert mode until almost 6 a.m., humming and trying to say some of the words with all her heart like she had a full audience and a fog machine.

And once the duck song begins, there’s no going back. You just ride it out and pray the finale comes before the sun does.

So, I’m starting this day with approximately three functioning brain cells. But hey — I’m trying to be productive. Really, I am. I’ve been painting the shiplap around the fireplace like some sort of domestic warrior who’s determined to finish something before bedtime.

Piper, in true chaotic toddler fashion, has been sprinting around trying to get the dogs to lick her directly in the mouth. Apparently, this is comedy gold to her. I’ve said “Piper, don’t let the dogs lick you in the mouth” more times than I’ve blinked today.

And of course — my parents left this afternoon. They’re heading down south for my dad’s job interview and to look at properties, which means it’s just me, the kids, and the dogs who bark at anything that moves left holding it down in the one-bedroom mom bunker.

There’s laundry to do, more painting waiting, and a child currently trying to hoard all tools she can get her hands on.

But I’m here. Still showing up.
Still trying.
Still running this marathon in no shoes since Piper takes them off while I am literally standing in them for her to shuffle around in and with a sea turtle music playing in the background.