I was on the phone with Rowdy last night while he drove home from class and I told him how frustrated I was that I didn't keep my cool with the kids. That I let them go to bed hearing an irritated mother. As I folded socks and spoke on the speaker phone (let's multi-task, shall we?), I told him that I wish I was better. That I didn't get so angry as they bounced and screamed and undoubtedly disturbed our downstairs neighbors. That I could just remain calm during the moments of hitting and yelling and purposefully "egg-ing on." That I would remember how amazing they are in those moments, and just laugh it off instead of huffing and puffing as I tuck them in.
I'm not really sure how to get to that place yet...the one where I can keep my cool and love the chaos and confusion, but I think my first step is praying.
I better get on that.
PS. What are your thoughts on having babies...like...6 years apart? Is it too late to have to start all over again? Feeling achy about that idea and hoping that there really is a plan in it all. And that THAT plan...is okay.