I'm worn out, and almost broken, but still here.

We had to leave church and come home early. Last week they stayed fairly quiet so we could wrangle them through it. Today, was a whole different story. Within 35 seconds of sitting down both toddlers were rolling on the floor and about 3 pews away already. It didn't improve. My husband decided the best way he could help was by holding the baby, who giggled and smiled the whole time. 

When i finally got everyone out of their church clothes, the whining ensued. The baby spit up. I want my binky I want my blankie, a choir of demands from the 2 and 3 year olds. My husband quickly said he had a paper to fill out and he'd be right back, disappearing into the garage for 45 minutes. Thanks babe. Change 2 diapers. Turn on the light in the bathroom for the toddler. Then go in and wipe up the floor and toilet with a Clorox wipe. I warmed up a chicken patty after asking the toddlers if they wanted lunch, to which their reply can only be described as pure disgust. Fine. I ate by the baby on the floor, whose smile never ends. Immediately I was bombarded with "give me lunch"'s and "I need dinnnnnner"'s. I kissed my sweet baby and tossed a chicken patty in for the gremlins. 90 seconds. Pick up 3 diapers, toss the spit up clothes in the hamper, sit down with the baby. I have a minute left to snuggle all the love and joy out of him. I soak it in, while the toddlers run around like maniacs screaming. I'm certain one of these days our upstairs neighbors will call CPS. Then the bell dings on the microwave and the tots train their eyes on my soul. "It's ready, go get it mom". Two more kisses on his soft head and I put him back down. Make lunch. As I opened the fridge for condiments I see strawberries and cucumbers. Guilt that they should have a balanced meal hits me and I take them out to prep. The two year old hasn't left my side and holds out her hands eagerly for a strawberry. Sigh. Here. Don't tell your brother. 

Lunch is on the table, the tots are quiet now, the baby is kicking and squealing, and I sit for a minute on the couch. I'm tired. 

As the hunger begins to melt away the toddlers get restless at the table and begin to irritate each other. Please stop hitting. You don't need to cry. More screaming. My husband comes in, sits next to me, and says "what happens if you don't like your life? Like, what do you do?" I just look at him.

"Fanks for lunch mom" the 3 year old says. The baby laughs at me. The two year old gives me a hug. I cry a little, because there's a lot to not like, and sometimes you get so emptied you think you might break, but then they give you a drop of love and somehow, it fills you all the way back up.