The art of "Adulting"

Some days I'm on my A-game. I make myself breakfast, eat it while reading the news or blogs, shower, and make it out the door on time.

Other days, I eat a boiled egg in the shower and rush around afterwards like a chicken with its head cut off to make it out the door.

Some days I beam at my baby's progress. Other days I cry hysterically because it makes me both happy and sad.

Some days I do all the dishes--other days, I leave all the dishes for my husband to do.

Sometimes I'm compassionate and other times not so much. 

On all of the days, I am trying my best to be my best and do my best.

Basically, there are times I have it together -- like super mom/human together -- and I "adult" really well. I open all my mail. I fold the laundry and put it away. I stay off my cell phone.

And then there are times I can't find two matching socks for the life of me. I press the snooze button again and again (like I did this morning). I want to cry when I miss my train home after a long day away from my baby. I forget my office phone number (#mombrain is real). The laundry is in piles. And brushing my teeth before bed feels more like a chore than it feels refreshing.

It sometimes feels like those not-so-together days are more common... but isn't that just being a human? What really is "adulting"? Our bills are paid on time (thanks, Autopay), We're all healthy and our son is well taken care of. At the core of it all, isn't THAT the most important?

So if "adulting" is trying/ seeming to have it all "together" while really just living and figuring out life, then sign me up. Besides, who really has it all together, all of the time, anyway?