July 2009
This morning was like every single morning in the last month or so. The girls woke up too early, too cranky and too hyper. Running from room to room pulling each others' toys away and screaming at the top of their lungs they only stopped to fight (literally push, shove and kick) for a place on my lap. And I was out of coffee. I was so discouraged at the constant picking on each other and refusal to eat, sleep, get dressed have a diaper changed, that I was harsh and sad at the same time. I fought back tears as my husband prayed for me to have patience and understand our daughters' frustrations. It took us forever and a day to get dressed and get to where we could get in the car and get away from the chaos. Finally, as I was encouraging ... to bring me her last shoe to put on, she trips and falls flat on her face. She screams immediately. But not the frustrated, cranky scream that reeks havoc on my nerves. This screaming is the true pain-full wails of a hurt child. ... and ... are dead quiet and stalk still. As I pick ... up, she immediately buries her face in my shoulder. She's weeping and screaming and my heart hurts for her. When she lifts her head, she has blood running out of her little nose down over her little mounth off her chin. She's hurt. I sit down and hold her trying to hug her pain away. She quiets down, snuggles in, and I finally notice the other two girls. They are standing a few inches from my knees, arms around each other. When they see me look up, they walk over to us and put their arms around .... We all hug and I pray that I remember this one moment in the middle of this chaotic day.
