Remote Controller.

6:30 a.m Today will be a good day. I will make it one. It is my Friday, I have aweome, healthy children and a great husband. Most of the time. Part of the time. If only I could pause, play, rewind and fastforward these moments of chaos, to grasp a moment of joy, a moment of truth or a moment of valor.
I suppose that is was you cling to when you are caught in the storm of motherhood depression. When you are scrambling to get ready for work, the boys are yelling and throwing cereal across the room, the dog and cats are eating it and will get diarrhea, and your husband is snoozing away while you are making his coffee. You want to scream and shout "I have needs too!!"

Pause. Rewind to 2 nights ago and the 3 whole minutes "Alvin", your eldest, started cleaning up without being asked, then you played 'Ring around the Rosy' with both of them until you got so dizzy you actually did fall down. All the while, their little laughs sprinkling joy into the bottom of your soul. Then you sat there, listening to your youngest, "Theodore", telling you all about colors and shapes and counting to 15. And you realize your hard work with "school-time" is paying off.

Fastforward
"Ahhhhh... Troll in the dungeon" SPLAT. Dear god, not my antique 1925 George P Bent Concert Grand Piano! Clean. Chastise. Coffee. Remember. Replay. 'He can clean, and will.'  Little minds are learning. Developing. Soaking in your attitude, mannerisms and learning how to react to disappointment, anger, frustration. Don't yell. Explain. They aren't hearing me!! Why are they not hearing me. Running amuck furniture and the house like feral, bounding puppies. 'Ring around the Rosy' Grasp their attention, but how? Why isn't Simon awake? Oh, coffee. That is it! "Boys, help me make daddy's coffee" I have an audience now. Whew. How long will this last? 'Pockets full of posies' "I press the button" "No me do it' I do it' SMACK. "Ouchiee!!" SMACK. "Don't fight!! Don't hit each other!"  'Ashes, ashes' I do it. I press the button and 2 violent tantrums erupt, drowning out the hum of the water pump beginning to brew. Alvin hits Theodore. Theodore cries and hits back. I separate them. "Other rooms." I tell them. Both crying in opposite rooms, I walk Simon his coffee. Quietly sit and finish my now frigid, stale coffee. 'We all fall down.'

Pause. Today will be a good day. I will make it one. I have healthy, awesome boys and a great husband. Most of the time. Part of the time. Sometimes.