Half-Full

It's almost noon. My kids are still in their pajamas. I am still in my pajamas. The baby is stuffed into the bouncy chair, all swaddled up and staring up at me like, "So are you gonna play with me today maybe?" My daughter is coloring in a magazine and singing loudly, some mash-up of "Give, Said the Little Stream" and "I Am a Child of God". My hair looks like that of a mental ward inpatient. Pretty sure I smell kind of like a yak. The living room is littered with a combination of children's books, junk mail and an odd assortment of socks. The bed isn't made, the laundry is waiting to be done and there are still some remnants of last night's dinner on the stove.

Looking around me, I feel overwhelmed with what I haven't done. But then I remember what I have done.

I made dinner last night. Enough for leftovers, in fact, so my husband can have a lunch today. I gave my baby a bath last night, and rubbed him down with Aquaphor so his itchy skin feels much better. I was up with both my kids during the night, tucking in their blankies and feeding my son. I was on my knees this morning, expressing my gratitude for another day with my beautiful kids, and asking for the sanity and energy to love them the way they deserve to be loved. I made some awesome oatmeal for breakfast that I shared with my little girl. I ate it, fed her and managed to pump 4 ounces of milk--at the same time. I sifted through health care providers online to find a dermatologist. Close by. Who is female. Found one and scheduled an appointment (daughter still singing loudly in the background), while juggling my baby boy and his pacifier. I played Hide and Seek with my little one, and helped her make a puzzle while her brother was sleeping. I talked to a friend who is having an even rougher morning than I am. I took a minute to re-discover snow with Zoey. I told my husband I love him, and kissed him before he went out the door. I didn't yell when my toddler woke up the baby for no apparent reason. I lit a nice-smelling candle. I opened the blinds upstairs and let the sunlight in. I cuddled my kids. Both of them! One at a time.

It's not even noon yet. I'm wiped out, and looking around (and in the mirror) I feel like I haven't accomplished anything. But I have. I'm a mom. I've chosen my priorities, and today my kids won. They are warm and full and happy. They are healthy and growing and learning. They know that I love them.

And they love me, smell and all.