I wake up and start jotting down my to do list, in random order:

• dishes
• laundry
• 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
• etc.

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.)
(For now.)