Maybe

Maybe you woke up late and you're out of coffee. And patience.

Maybe your house looks like a tornado touched down and then moved in and plans to stay for the next 18 years.

Maybe your two year old decided that her artistic medium today was permanent marker. On your wall.  On your dining room table.  On your couch.

Maybe your three year old figured out how to get in the pantry, find an unopened bag of flour, and then open it.

Maybe the mountain of clean clothes to be folded is only rivaled by the mountain of dirty clothes.

Maybe your nine year old has decided he hates everything including school, playing outside, and following directions.  Except his iPad.  He does not hate his iPad.

Maybe you forgot to send that t-shirt to school with your kid for the fifth day in a row and he was the only one who didn't have one which, to have him tell it, was the single most embarrassing moment of his young life.

Maybe the thought of doing homework with your child is giving you a stabbing pain behind your right eye.

Maybe you were late.  Again.  And you forgot to put wipes in the diaper bag.  Again. And things fell out of your minivan when you went through the pick-up line. Again.

Maybe if one more person, big or small, touches you one more time, you're going to have a temper tantrum that will impress even your two year old.

Maybe dealing with The Autism today has got you more than ready for The Wine later.

Maybe your dreams of visiting far away places and taking spa days have been replaced by dreams of eight consecutive hours of sleep and going to the bathroom without an audience.

Maybe the bags under your eyes are permanent.

Maybe your love tank is on empty and there are still 3,564 seconds until bedtime.

I'm here to tell you . . .  .

Okay, I got nothing.
 
I'm in the trenches just like you.  I have no idea what I'm doing half the time. It's a humbling experience to be a parent.  Aren't things supposed to get easier the longer you do them?  Not parenting.  Nope, parenting gets harder.  Then you add more kids (and more personalities and more laundry) to the mix.  The kids keep changing and growing and wanting to be their own person. It's exhausting and I don't even have teenagers yet.

When I feel like I am making a mess of things, I remember once being told that "these are the children God gave me." I tell myself they are mine for a reason and I think about the things I did that really mattered that day:

Did I feed those kiddos and keep them safe?

Did I kiss a boo-boo, wipe a tear, clean a runny nose?

Did I make my kiddo smile or laugh?

Did I pray for them?

Did I tell them I love them?

Sure, it felt like an impossibly hard day. But, no, it's not the end of the world if their clothes didn't match.  No one died from eating popcorn and watermelon for dinner. At the end of the day, those messy, laundry-making, disobedient, precious children know you love them.  So, they give you a final sloppy kiss goodnight, a strangling hug, a whispered, "I love you" and that makes your whole day worth it.

That and the ice cream you're going to eat once they're asleep.