7/29/11

a portrait of my morning

Everyone was fed, clean, dressed, changed, happily watching a Donald Duck cartoon. I went to the basement to start a load of laundry. I was gone for approximately 4 minutes. Returning upstairs reveals Hazel bawling (probably from a sister taking her toy) with snot running down her chin, Millie shoving objects into the VCR, and Jo whining and whining for an Oreo. I pacify them with cookies, crayons and coloring, and some banana baby food for Hazel. Jo cries for some milk with her cookie. I leave Hazel to pour Jo a cup, and in the meantime Hazel knocks off her baby food into the air vent, and Millie colors all over the table legs. I clean up, get Hazel to take her morning nap, and throw the girls outside to finger paint. I run after Millie to stop her climbing the neighbor's ladder, and Jo runs into the house (trailing paint) to wake up Hazel.

I know I should find humor in mornings like these, to embrace the chaos, but some mornings I just can't, and cry instead.

2 comments:

  1. Next time bring them over, and you and I can hover in a corner and raise a white flag while we laugh and cry at the same time.

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  2. Oh, Shelley! I've been there. It's so hard when you're in the thick of it. And, it's ok to cry too. Just grab onto whatever little moments of pure joy you can, because before you know it they will be 12, 11, 9 and 6. Oh wait... that's my kids ages. Just yesterday they were little bitty things dumping entire boxes of Nesquik all over the kitchen floor, cutting their own hair and putting the goldfish in the bathroom sink because someone wanted to cuddle in bed with the fish, but then realized the fish was dying, and so the poor fish was put in the bathroom sink. The fish lived. So did they. So did I. It was a miracle. And I miss it.

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