Yes, I am still here.
Driving a van.
Making meals kids don't like.
Doing 20 plus loads of laundry in a week.
Teaching times tables, sight words, and ABCs.
Wondering when I'm going to get into see my eye doctor about more contacts and if I really need to get my hair cut.
Cleaning up puke.
Waking up every hour in night with a sick kid.
Running into things trying to get to the hall when I hear someone crying in the dark.
Tickling little arm pits and feet until they stop complaining about going to school every day.
Forgetting to lock doors, and close doors, and do all the homework before it's due.
Watching pinewood derby races.
Catching snot spraying down a face right before the sacrament and not having any tissues.
Buying little packs of tissues.
Sneaking out to go wedding dress shopping with a friend. (Why do I feel a little guilty?)
Going stir crazy wanting to write, but not having time, and then being tired.
Doing Easter egg hunts, giving baths, reading books, wishing it would stop snowing, and re-pulling out coats I keep putting away in hopes that winter will end.
I think I remembered to breath in all this. Does anyone ever feel like they're in the spin cycle of a washing machine? I love these kids. I might have started calling them "My boys." When I think about everything, I get this urge to giggle. Don't ask me why. Maybe it's a gift from God.
And who can begrude all the work when a sick little boy, up for the forth time that night, reaches out.
"I love you."