This mothering thing is hard.
It stretches you in ways that are beyond the physical, hellllooooo stretch marks.
It's mentally tough, physically exhausting and emotionally...well, emotionally draining.
It also brings with it inexplicable joy, happiness and contentment.
Making all of the other hardships disappear because by golly, I have the joy of being a mother to three of the most amazing creatures to have ever walked this Earth.
Not that I am remotely biased or anything, I mean, look at those faces!
Okay, so my point of all of this is that while we, scratch that, I try to pretend like I have all my stuff together.
That my darling children are ALWAYS well-behaved, polite angels, that's not reality.
Reality is...well, take today for instance.
I had a meeting up at Adison's school this afternoon, the last one of the school year {Yippee!}.
Adison was SUPPOSED to be on the playground playing with her best friend, while normally checking in with me periodically.
Abby and Ainsley were playing in the room that I was in.
Then, we had to leave early due to Ainsley's ballet class this afternoon.
I get the little two and Abby's bag that she had brought in and headed downstairs to find Adison.
Only, Ainsley bolted ahead of me and I couldn't find her ANYWHERE.
I'm walking around the school yelling her name only to be answered by silence.
Mild freakout going on.
Finally she pops her head out, I was hiding Mama!
{You've GOT to be kidding me!!!!}
Adison.
Where is Adison?
After checking out the playground and not finding her I start to panic.
I looked out a couple of the other doors and couldn't find her anywhere.
Finally I see her friend.
Adison was playing down by a busy street collecting leaves.
Say what!?!
I was livid.
Terrified.
I read the news, I'm aware of what can happen to 9 year old children.
Needless to say, I slightly freaked out and informed Adison and Ainsley that they would be getting consequences when we got home; room cleaning and early bedtimes were to be had.
I like for things to seem like they are cool, calm and under control.
That's just not reality though.
More often than not, I feel like a chicken with her head cut off trying to wrangle a heard of cats during a tornado.
It would be great if reality looked more like perception, however, my reality looks a lot more like the picture below.
Only, add a temper tantruming, jumping up and down four year old as well as an attitude giving nine year old.
It's not perfect, I'm not perfect, life is not perfect, but it's mine and they are mine, and for me, this is perfection.
All of it, the good, the bad, the ugly and the funny.