The three year old painted himself with deodorant. He was supposed to be taking a nap, but he shares the room with his 11 year old brother who left his deodorant in his room. This is after I asked the 11 year old to keep the deodorant in the bathroom where it belongs. The 3 year old doesn’t appear to have eaten any, so I can avoid calling poison control.
That was after the rip roaring temper tantrum over lunch that ended in tiny bits of overly chewed hot dog being spewed on the floor.
And the 11 year old who is having trouble reducing fractions. And the mother who has a brain fart and thinks that 16 can be divided by 3.
And mounds of laundry. And cookies to make for hubby’s birthday tomorrow, and gifts to wrap and gifts to return right after they’re bought because they’re damaged, and groceries to buy, and history to teach…
Can I scream? Oh, wait, I did that already. Can I back up start over?
Yes, I can. Take a deep breath. Settle into God’s presence. Ask Him for forgiveness. Ask my children for forgiveness. Remember that if these are the worst things that happen today, it’s still a good day.
Even though my hands still smell like my son’s deodorant.
Amy Lynn Simon 