I definitely like to believe that I’m responsible for everything. Do you ever have those days where you’re pretty sure the sun wouldn’t come up if you weren’t around?

You know the days I’m talking about, where you feel like you are responsible for remembering and doing every single thing.

For example, here’s a look at my morning routine, pretty much every morning.

4:45 a.m. Alarm goes off. Put on workout clothes, peek in kids rooms, tip toe downstairs.

5:00 a.m. Work out.

6:00 a.m. Quiet time. I cool down, stretch, read my devotional, drink some water, and breathe. I take a preliminary check of my work email.

6:30 a.m. Lydia floats down the stairs, smiling from ear to ear. “Good morning mommy! I love you!” Please note: I’m not making this up. This is 100% truly how she wakes up, every morning. I find it amazing and strange all at the same time. And I hope it continues forever.

6:35 a.m. Trey slumps down the stairs, peering out from under his trusty blanket while squinting at the sunlight that is obnoxiously pouring in from the living room windows. He makes no sound but pushes my devotional book and notebook out of the way and crawls into my lap head-first.

6:35:30 a.m. Both children want breakfast. I oblige, while also packing backpacks, snacks, and studying the school calendars to make sure today isn’t red shirt day or Show & Tell day or field trip to the Post Office day. I check the church calendar and the family calendar, then a quick look at my work calendar. I pull together any additional supplies based on the calendars and put necessary reminders in my phone.

6:45 a.m. Breakfast has been devoured. I get both kids dressed, ready and settled downstairs with books, coloring, toys or some combination.

7:00 a.m. Shower time for me.

7:01 a.m. Answer 12 questions from either Lydia or Trey, whichever child has abandoned their coloring and sibling downstairs to join me in the bathroom. Standard questions to be answered include what will the weather be like today, when is the play date with Cora Beth, why doesn’t Alvin (from Alvin and the Chipmunks) have a sister. The usual. Hear someone going to the bathroom. Remind them there is a bathroom downstairs. Then remind them not to flush the toilet because it makes the water super… COLD. Awesome.

7:15 a.m. Shower Trivia time has ended. I’m dry, almost dressed, and am standing on my soapbox, delivering my best “your brother/your sister is your built-in best friend” lecture in response to a disagreement about a toy. Trust me, it’s a really good lecture. According to a focus group of one. (Me.)

7:25 a.m. We’re downstairs, getting shoes on, putting backpacks by the door, cleaning up any remaining breakfast dishes and toys. If we’re running early, we read one of their library books on the “waiting couch” (the couch by our front door). If we’re running late, we’re on the front porch tying one last shoe or wiping milk off of top lips (theirs, not mine) before preschool.

7:30 a.m. My husband wakes up.

See what I mean?

And if I stopped my story right there, you’d have a certain impression of my husband, of our life, and of our almost 12 years of marriage. You’d be thinking, “She does EVERYTHING! That guy has it made!”

I thought the same thing, for a long time.

I was wrong.

My husband has been away for his job for one week now and I have been flying solo. We’ve known this 12 weeks away was coming for a long time, and when people would hear about the impending time apart, they’d say things like “What are you going to DO without him???”

I’d usually shrug, mutter something about getting someone to mow the lawn while he was away, and move on. What was everyone so upset about? I already do everything, right? Sure I’d miss all our quality time together, and our family time and his sense of humor and his extra set of arms, but overall logistically, I had this.

Then week one came. We waved goodbye to my husband as he left for training, got dressed for church, and started out the door when I noticed Lydia’s flushed cheeks. Was that a fever? No. Surely not. But just in case, I checked.

102.1.

Back inside we went. Thankfully my parents were still visiting from Pennsylvania, and my mother stayed home from church with Lydia so I could go teach my class and prepare everything we needed for an upcoming volunteer project.

After church, I came home and took care of Lydia and eventually Trey who also came down with a fever. The coughing got worse. And that night, I was up with both children doing the sick-kid two-step of nose drops, steam shower, humidifier, warm honey and repeat.

The rest of the week? Well, it just got worse.

Monday: My parents went home. I took both kids to the doctor and found out they both had a virus (because my son has breathing problems, a doctor visit is a must with any kind of respiratory issues). So home we went to rest as I worked to reschedule all my meetings for the day. I spent the rest of the day administering meds, making food, wiping noses, holding hair back, rubbing backs, reading books, giving baths and changing TV channels.

Tuesday: The previous night was once again sleepless thanks to coughing kids and stuffy noses. As I was making breakfast I got an alert on my phone. My bank account was overdrawn. Had to be a mistake, right? Wrong. Someone had gotten our debit card information and drained one of our bank accounts. So I spent countless hours on the phone with fraud representatives.

Wednesday: Day three of sleep deprivation. Went to shower and as I was pulling back the shower curtain, I found my shower was filled with ants. Apparently this is what happens when you use grapefruit shampoo, coconut oil conditioner, homemade sugar scrub, and keep your shower clean using a vinegar mixture. Basically I had laid out a lovely little ant buffet. Googled natural ant killer, went to the hardware store, bought the ingredients, mixed up the concoction and sprayed the house down.

Thursday: Muffins with Moms Day at the kids’ preschool to celebrate Mother’s Day. I went to the school and ate delicious muffins the kids had prepared and watched their sweet little program. Afterward, I got in my car to find a light flashing on my car’s dashboard. I found the owner’s manual. Found the “alert” section. My particular light meant low tire pressure. Upon inspecting the tires, I found a flat.

Yup. Can’t make this stuff up.

I got the car to a local tire shop and while waiting, Googled “what to say so I don’t sound like a lame little girl that a mechanic will take advantage of.” Two hours later I drove to my office with a shiny new tire and a fully functioning car.

Friday: I woke up with that feeling. You know the one. There’s a slight scratchiness in your throat and something is just off. I loaded up with all the preventative things. Elderberry syrup, vitamin C, Echinacea, Zycam, Tylenol, you name it I took it. I went into the office, then to get the kids, then to the church building to prepare 10 breakfast casseroles for the next day’s Civil Servants volunteer project where we make and deliver food to all the local fire, EMS, and police stations. The scratchiness wouldn’t go away…

Saturday: My body ached and I was running a low-grade fever. We went to the church to help prep the food at a safe, non-germy distance and then went with a team to deliver to the local fire station. I let the kids hop on the fire truck and hear the siren (oh my head).

One of the teen girls came over that afternoon and played with the kids (God Bless you Haley!) which gave me a few minutes to just be still. Haley went home and my body started shaking and I could no longer swallow. Temperature was 104. Normally I would power through, but with no husband backup, I loaded the kids up and went to the doctor who confirmed I had strep and gave me a lovely antibiotic.

And that, my dear friends, brings me to today. Sunday. Mother’s Day. Where I lay on the couch, shaking, while wonderful friends bring my children to church.

So it turns out I do need my husband. Terribly.

That is the lesson I learned this week, my first week flying solo. Sure I handle the logistics, but he handles so many big things like ants and tires and fraud, and the emotional support he provides through all of it is crucial. I have a newfound appreciation not only for him, but for all the single mothers out there who do this by themselves every single day.

I encourage you not to fall into the same trap I did of taking your husband for granted. Just because he forgets to take out the trash or doesn’t move as fast as you’d like on a household project doesn’t matter. (Though yes, those things are frustrating)

So today, on Mother’s Day, amid the flowers, phone calls, hand-drawn scribbles and yummy brunches, I want to suggest doing one additional thing. I want you to take a moment today and write down three things about your husband that you’re thankful for. Then tell him. Or text it to him. Or send him a quick email while you’re clearing out your inbox this evening preparing for the week. However you tell him, just please be sure you do. Remember, none of us would be mothers without fathers. Sure, we’re responsible for a lot. But we aren’t responsible for it all.

Thank goodness.