"Charlie!" my sixteen-year-old stepdaughter Sydney screams from upstairs. "The baby is hungry again."

I slowly drag my tired body up the stairs, my four-year-old Jackson hot on my trail.

"I'm hungry," he whines.

"The chicken nuggets are in the oven."

When I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, Sydney hands me sex-week-old Sebastian.

Oops. Freudian slip I suppose. I meant six-week-old.

"Here. He keeps trying to get his lunch from me." Her face contorts in the typical disgusted teenager look she seems to have perfected these last few years.

"He loves his big sister," I say.

We exchange the newest Shaw clan member and her eyes roam up and down my body.

"Well, these aren't producing any milk." She takes both of her hands and presses her breasts up as though I don't catch her meaning.

"Can I touch?" Jackson reaches the landing, looking over to his sister, hands already stretched out over his head in preparation.

"No." Sydney and I say in unison, each of our hands pulling one of his arms down.

Jackson scrunches up his face. "Why? Daddy gets to."

"What?" I scream.

Jackson’s lip trembles as a result, not understanding my reaction.

Sydney rolls her eyes—her second favorite non-verbal communication these days.

So, maybe my career as a youth counselor has me on high alert, and when you add on my hormones and sleep deprivation I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of a spinning tornado most days.

"He's always touching yours," Jackson says, swiveling my way with hands out for me.

"No." Sydney and I say in unison—again, each of our hands pushing his arms down.

Jackson's shoulders deflate and he waddles down the hall to his bedroom in full pout mode.

Sydney's eyes roam up and down my body once again.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I ask.

"Are you going to shower today? Chloe and Sasha are coming over later."

"How about I pay you, Chloe and Sasha to watch the kids?"

She follows me into Sebastian's room, where she purposely looks anywhere but at me since I'm getting ready to nurse for the millionth time today.

I grab at what is the last straw in order to gain the time to shower, shave, and look half-way sexy for tonight.

I bet you're thinking it's our anniversary?

Nope.

Birthday?

Wrong again.

Sebastian is six weeks old today and I just got the clearance yesterday to resume having sex with my sexy beast of a husband.

"Sorry, we're heading to the festival."

"An hour? Surely, you can give me an hour?"

Her shoulders falter similar to Jackson seconds earlier.

"Fine. I don't know whose idea it was to have all these damn kids." She stomps off to her room and slams the door.

With that taken care of I grant my new guy all of my attention, propping my feet up on the stool, and admiring my little Garrett. He really is the spitting image of his father, minus the beard of course.

After I feed and burp him, he falls asleep in my arms, so, we go downstairs and I place him in the bassinet.

The sound of Jackson's footsteps ring out on the stairs and when he enters the room I see that the sadness from earlier has disappeared from his face.

"Smelly," he says and waves his hand in front of his face.

It's then that my gaze flicks to the oven, seeing smoke pouring out.

The nuggets.

I run over to the oven, press the fan button and open the oven door to pull them out.

There they sit on the stovetop, all burnt and hard on a cookie sheet with smoke billowing off them.

"My nuggets," Jackson's lip trembles again and I can’t help but compare this little guy to the sweet smiley boy I knew just six weeks ago.

Have I ruined his structured and happy life because we had Sebastian?

"It's okay, buddy, I'll make more." I scramble around the kitchen, opening windows and doors to get the smoke out before the detector goes off and wakes up Sebastian.

"My nuggets," he whines again, staring at the baking sheet with what looks like pieces of coal scattered around.

I swoop him up, and nuzzle his head into the crook of my neck.

"What happened?" Sydney appears in the doorway dressed in a cute pair of shorts and tank top with her hair and make-up perfected. The only thing spoiling her look is the sour expression on her face. Her gaze focuses on the tray. "Again?"

I shoot her my give-me-a-fucking-break-one-day-you'll-be-where-I am-now look and hand her Jackson.

She picks him up and he swings his arms around her neck.

Those two really do have a special bond. One that can be hard to break. Hopefully, Sebastian will be just as welcomed once he’s no longer a twenty-four seven eating, crying, and pooping machine. I think they both find him more of a nuisance than anything right now.

"My nuggets," Jackson repeats in a small voice.

Syd and I both look at the clock and nod our heads.

Naptime.

I know he needs to eat but he’s going to be a complete disaster later if he doesn’t take his nap.

The door bell rings and Sydney pulls Jackson from her body and places him in my arms.

"That was a nice minute break," I mumble, following her to the door.

She slides on her sandals while I open the front door. Not the pair of teenagers I was expecting. Instead it's my mother-in-law, Jane.

"Jackson," she says as she opens the screen door and walks through the archway, her arms already out and ready to hold him.

No one wants their mother-in-law to see them when they’re struggling, but I’ll take the small break her presence will afford me.

Sydney says hello to her grandmother and a moment later Chloe's car pulls up and Sydney gives her grandma a kiss on the cheek.

"I’m assuming since Grams is here, you don’t need us to watch the ruffians,” she says and passes me, stepping out onto the porch. “I'll call later."

"Syd," I follow her out to the driveway.

"Hi, Mrs. Shaw," Chloe and Sasha both say from the car, each waving.

"Hi, girls." I turn my attention to Sydney, who I can tell is ready to tune me out.

One day we'll be friends again when her age starts with a two and not a one, I remind myself.

"Your dad is home tonight and he's going to want to see you. So, dinner at six, okay?"

She rolls her eyes, but nods. Garrett's been gone for four days and wants an all-hands-on-deck family dinner tonight.

"Great. Have fun." I move toward her to kiss her on the cheek or hug her, like the good old days before she entered high school.

I quickly retract my advance when I catch the horrified look on her face and before I know it, she's sliding into the backseat of Chloe's car.

I hear them drive away as I make my way back to the front door and spot a box sitting on our porch.

I pick it up, carrying it inside.

Before I can examine the package, Jackson runs up to me. "Present?" he asks.

So much for his lunch. Or that nap.

I look down at the label, finding that it’s for me, from an address I don't recognize.

I haven't had time for general hygiene the past six weeks, let alone online shopping.

"I’m not sure what it is kiddo."

I join Jane in the living room where she’s sitting on the couch. I know she's just waiting for Sebastian to wake up so she can hold him.

"Open," Jackson says, his fingers already on the tape, trying to rustle the box open.

We both sit down on the family room floor. "You work that end and I'll work this one."

Jane watches on, a small smile on her face.

I should’ve gotten a knife and sliced through the tape, but Jackson's having fun as each small sliver of tape pulls off and he has to start over. Jane and I share a smile, watching him trying his darndest to get it open.

"Want more help?" I ask.

"Fucking tape," he mumbles, continuing to pull on the edge of tape.

Jane gasps.

I freeze.

"What did you say?" I ask.

Jackson looks up at me, obviously sensing from my tone that he’s said something wrong. His lip tremble is seconds away.

"Fucking tape," he repeats a little more unsure this time.

Jane gasps again.

I let my chin drop down to my chest.

If my life were to be summed up with a hashtag right now it would most certainly be #Momfail.