I found myself yesterday being a bit overwhelmed by how many children I have. Maybe it was the talking-whining-tattling-yelling all at once. Or the constantly being climbed on and tugged at and, like, being needed and stuff. I just wanted to eat my salad in peace at lunch but instead I watched it be devoured by a little vulture that decided he'd rather have what I was having. And that I should feed it to him. With my fork.
I hate when I can't stand the things coming out of my mouth- who is this person?- how I sound, correcting and disciplining and ruiner of all fun. I finally had a moment where I took some cleansing breaths and soon was able to just observe Gray running up and down the yard, filling up a water can in the little pool and giggling as he'd take it to some other part of the yard to pour it out. Over and over. His eyes flashed and his smile grew and I pushed past the guilt of my earlier monster momness. He deserves so much more than my rotten attitude. And I said thankful prayers for this child, that I was witness to such a moment. Of finding joy in pretty much nothing. He's only two but he has taught me so much. I still have so much to learn.