I got up this morning and it was all going great. The kids were dry and fed and happy and Sid the Science Kid was entertaining the stew out of them and then we went for a walk, they went down for a nap in their own beds, and I ironed all of Joe's shirts for his work week. I was the poo right at that moment. Untouchable. Superwoman. Aaaaand then Charlie woke up suddenly. I think she got hot. And she woke up Davey which made him mad. That was at 10am. I think the crying and yelling and fussiness stopped around 3pm. Nothing makes you feel like you're doing a bad job better than two kids screaming at you. And I wanted so badly to keep all the plates spinning before Joe got home, and he'd be so impressed with me, and the kids would be soundly asleep and we'd enjoy our dinner together and fall asleep blissfully on the couch together watching reruns of Gilmore Girls (because Joe likes to watch it with me just because it makes me happy). But none of that happened. And Joe doesn't like to watch Girlmore Girls.
But here it is - 10:25pm, and I realize that soon I'll be in bed, soon after that it will be tomorrow, and I'll get another shot at being Superwoman. I'll even settle for Pretty Alright woman.
Here's what I do know.
When I feel like this:
I have this:
...to make me remember that Superwoman or not, I've got it made.
Ok, I promise to post crafty things I've been making in my next post. I've got Charlie dresses and throw pillows and aprons I've been working on. And I'm determined, at some point, to make that darn tool belt for Davey. He deserves some handmade swag too, dangit.