A pile of laundry waits to be folded, dishes sprinkle the kitchen counter from a chaotic breakfast, and my toddler is throwing a tantrum because I told her no more juice. Instantly, my hands grasp for my phone in it’s pink case.
Without even thinking, I open to Facebook and begin to scroll. The chaos ensues around me and then I see the article. You know the one. In fact, you may be thinking this is one of those articles. The very well intended articles about how moms are too wrapped up in their phones.
Enter a truckload of guilt pouring over my already weary self. “I am such a bad mom,” the lies whisper to me.