We had to call the plumber (he came at 8 p.m.) and my arch enemies (ants) invaded my Nutella. The time change sucked the sleep out of us, everyone was cranky, a little less wealthy, and one shower down from our usual pair.
We consoled ourselves with goat cheese and cranberries, table grapes and fire light. We tried to settle in for a quiet evening with our favorite baby and his bear.
Full of riches, I snapped at the children. They're so bouncy, so jumpy, loud and pushy full of random kicks and pokes.
I made a mean face and I watched their faces fall and frankly I don't know how to be stronger, kinder, and more deserving of the little whirlwind people that I live with.
They just keep growing taller, dirtier, and louder. It's breaking my heart and I'm loving it.
So I gather my patience again. I tell them they don't know how much I love them. He says they do; I love them 18. I laugh and say my love is not a number.
And when the day gets dark and pinched, it's always helpful to stand on a table in your underwear.
But, it's always MORE helpful to look at the light instead of the dark, to count the ways you're rich, the ways you love and are loved, to add until you can't.
"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." -Mother Teresa
