Because, well, for the most part it seems that my life revolves around them. Well, I guess sometimes those bodily fluids are somewhat solid. You know, slobber, blood, breast milk, pee, poop, puke, snot … These are the defining marks of my day. And this day is one that I just want to have two of me. Some help, some ideas, some energy. Nothing is particularly going wrong or bad. It’s nothing like Wednesday night while I was cleaning up from dinner and Brenna was watching Ian and somehow his onesie fell off (?), and then his diaper fell off (?) and he peed all over the new couch. No, I haven’t had any bodily fluid moments quite like that today. Just a baby to breastfeed, boys holding crotches and squirming to remind to go potty, trips to the bathroom because Logan yells, “Mommy, I’m done. Mommy, I’m duh-one. MOMMY I NEED WIPED!!”

But, it’s not the bodily fluids that have me needing help today.  Okay– I guess tears are a bodily fluid and those have been accompanied by way too much whining and screaming today.  So, there we have it.  Even something I thought didn’t have anything to do with bodily fluids does, in fact, include bodily fluids.  Three year olds in our family are hard.  They’re bossy. They scream.  And kick.  And yell.  And when there are older sibblings that want their way and not Logan’s way– yikes.  I wonder if I would cope better if I just wore ear plugs?

It’s just one of those days that I wonder if my kids will turn out okay despite my inadequacies and lack of patience.  Will they be emotionally scarred for life by being yelled at for leaving the door open because it is letting freezing cold air in 20 times in 2 hours?  Am I doing permanent damage by not sending Brenna to school and just letting her read all day long?  Is the permanent damage better permanent damage than the permanent damage of learning to play the game of school and social cliques?  Will my baby survive the obstacle course of choking hazards that is our family room?  Why is the dog following me around with her food dish?!  Will I ever be able to go somewhere with my kids and have shoes and coats on (and left on) in less than half and hour?  Why does it take almost an hour just to get out the door?  Will there be a day that I don’t step on legos?

In my head I have all these ideals– dreams of picturesque cuddling and reading.  Orderly shelves of educational materials that get used frequently– and then put back right where they belong.  Of clean bathrooms and clean laundry.  Of walls covered with beautiful artwork (which I own, but isn’t framed).  Of books written and illustrated, socks knitted, prints printed…

I’m not going to finish that list because I want to feel BETTER when I’m done writing this.  I hold these visions in my head.  They are like a map.  Instead of following a straight course, I guess I’m meandering– often ignoring the clean house trail, but more often than not arriving at the x that marks the treasure of my children and the miracle they are– of kissing squishy faces and saying, “I am so happy to be your mama.”  I need the ideals.  Somewhere to reach.

The reality is, though, that I’m not fully dressed until my shoulder is covered with boogers.