I wake up and start jotting down my to do list, in random order:
- move train to Asa’s room
- call Daddy about doll house
- call friend who just had surgery
- get soup in slow cooker
- rearrange bonus room
- more chores
- more chores
And I get up and move over one load of laundry, get morning drinks and breakfast served.
Then plan to start on the list.
Instead, however, I find myself answering questions and refereeing disagreements, changing diapers and assembling (and reassembling) the train track (again). (At least I got it moved, right?)
And I find myself frustrated with them, frustrated with me.
Wanting to yell, “Can’t I just get ONE thing done? Just ONE thing?”
But I take a deep breath, scratch the to do list and make another one:
- Play with the doll house with Lydia
- Read The Body book with Carter
- Watch the train go ’round and ’round and ’round with Asa
- Have a tea party with Anna Alden
- Fix lunch and eat it under the table with the children
- Put the baby down for a nap and do an art project with the bigs
- Blow up the punching bag toy (again)
- Watch Asa beat the snot out of it
- Go through all the Disney apps on sale with the big two
- Upload new apps onto their ipods
- Get tonight’s soup in the slow cooker
Instead of frustrated, I’m happy.
Instead of crying, we’re all laughing.
Instead of clean, my house is a disaster.
(And I’m okay with that.)