Some Days

Some days, the pitter patter of little feet running up and down the hallway makes me want to pull my hair out. It grates.

Some days, the boys seem to do nothing but fight. Spencer lives to torment Jack, it seems. Spencer better hope Jack doesn't remember; I have a feeling the tables will turn as soon as Jack realizes he's almost as big as Spencer.

Some days, I seem to have a million errands to run and both boys seem to do nothing but fuss and whine. They are hungry when they just ate. Thirsty when they just drank. Hot when the car can't be a degree above 73. Tired when they just woke up from naps.

Some days, I'm tempted to look at them and yell "FINE THEN!" and turn on Barney and Calliou for the entire day while I hide in my room. Barney and Calliou can soothe the savage beasts, I tell you.

Some days, I can't move for a kid clinging to my leg. I can't be out of sight for .42 seconds before someone is crying my name in agony because they dropped their bowl of goldfish or bumped their head on the super plush couch.

Some days, I want to put them both in bed at 5:00.

Today, well, today was not one of those days.

Today, my kids rolled with the punches with as little belly aching as I have a right to expect from a 5 year old and 15 month old.

Today, the pitter patter of little feet running up and down my hallway was punctuated with peals of laughter.

Today, Spencer and Jack hardly fought. They played "puppy" instead.

Today, no one clung to my leg while I tried to cook or pressed themselves to the shower door while I was trying to clean my weary body.

Today, I relished in my children. I relished that I was their mother and they were my kids. Imperfect and wonderful, all three.