The 87 Hour Day

Today was an 87 hour-long day in which bedtime was always 86 hours away no matter what time it was.  It was a day when the last person standing was the winner, and if only one person was crying at a time, the winner was me.  Even as I attempt to compose my thoughts here [writing in real-time!], I have been interrupted to 1) answer the question “Mom, am I being quiet enough in bed?“, 2) deal with the child who doesn’t care if he’s being quiet at all – in fact, the louder, the better, and 3) answer the evening questions from the training potty: “Yes, that is where you go to the bathroom.  Yes, that is where you take a shower.  Yes, that is where you wash your hands.  No, you may not read a magazine.” (still unclear if he actually had to use the facilities or wanted a quick round of bathroom-style ’20 questions’).

Still, despite the giant cup of crazy that is my life right now, it’s a great place to be.  Here are just a few of the reasons why:  (Just so you know –  I’m writing these down as much for myself today as for anybody else…)

  • I live in a land where the phrase “Who wants a popsicle?!” makes me a national hero.
  • I live in a land where all injuries, real or imagined, are healed with a kiss and hug.
  • …where playing play-dough makes me cool.
  • …where flights of fancy are celebrated and even required.
  • …where “therapy” is a fuzzy baby head pressed on my shoulder.
  • …where just because my name is “Mom”, I am invincible. (and can even resuscitate the caterpillar that Chase ate) (not really) (but they thought I could)

Thinking about what a fun land I live in reminds me to be thankful on these long days.

Now I’m back to real-time.  I need to go tell them to put their heads on their pillows and be quiet (again) (you’d think they’d be tired after 87 hours) … and maybe kiss them and snuggle them in … just one more time.  :)

Good Night.



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