Down and Up

A friend was telling me today about a dream she had about me-that social services had called to ask her questions about what kind of mom I am.

You know, I joke a lot about my kiddos being terrorists. I threaten to duct tape them so I can have ten seconds of peace and quiet. But the truth is, these girls are precious to me. I get frustrated with them, but I wouldn't trade them for anything.

So here I was today, thinking, wow, maybe I should be careful about how I joke about them, because you never know which big brother is watching. And then I realized that anyone who knows me knows that they are my joy. I've never hurt them, and would do anything to avoid doing so.

Which led to me feeling pretty darn proud of myself about how I work so hard to be a good mom to them, and to help them grow as people.

Then...

The baby woke up from her nap.

"Mom, I pooped."

The part she didn't mention was that she also painted her room with her poop.

Homicide, here I come. Okay, so I opted to give her a bath, clean up the mess, and remind myself that my revenge will come with her children.

Needless to say, I was really glad to leave for work. I did get dinner on the table, but left the kitchen a total mess because rather than picking up the kitchen and maybe getting a minute or two to relax, I had to clean up poop. Yep, yet again, my day turned to crap.

I was slightly afraid to return home to the mess I hadn't gotten to (yes, all the poop did get cleaned up before I left). When I walked in the door and put my stuff down, everyone was already in bed. But as I passed her door to check on That Man, I heard her little voice calling for her mommy.

So I went into her room, and she was sitting in her bed, with a big smile. "Mommy, I missed you," she said. And then, in best baby form, she told me all about her evening. She made sure I knew that she had stars above her bed (as if I could forget-I nearly broke my neck putting them up there) and that she thought they were beautiful. She wrapped those tiny arms of hers around my neck and said, "Mommy, I love you." I held her for a while, and listened to her chatter amidst the snores of her big sister, and as I felt that baby soft head resting against my chest, I knew that even if I had to clean up crap every single day for the rest of my life, it would totally be worth it.

Although God, please, I would appreciate it if you didn't test me in that. ;)