All the kids have a little bit of a cold so I kept Manny home from preschool yesterday. Don't tell him. He hasn't figured it out yet. I am still really tired because everybody has been up a lot in the night and the days begin WAY too early, so by bedtime, I was getting to the state where Sam asks me a simple question like, "Is Glory's blanket downstairs?" And instead of smiling and sweeting saying, "Yes, it is darling," I speak/shout/snarl, "It's in the family ROOM." By the end of the sentence, my attitude always eeks out a lot more than is acceptable.
I thought I had it made when we all arrived in Manny's room for pajamas and toothbrushing, but my patience only thinned and I had already had two instances of howling like my finger got cut off when actually the children had only smacked me in the face with books and toys. I am getting better at not screaming at Manny in my weakest moments. Instead I just sort of scream at the universe and then I calmly detail in paragraphs my physical/emotional/spiritual state to the kids so that they understand the nuances of what I'm dealing with and appreciate that, I too, am human and fallible and in need of their grace. I find that somewhere near the beginning of the explanation they got over their shock regarding my outburst and find comfort or boredom in my monologue as they search for more food to eat out of the corners.
Sam could tell I was on the edge and suggested I take a breather, but every time I tried to leave at least two children would start to wail, "Mama!" and I just couldn't make it out the door. When Elena started shrieking because we were trying to put on her onesie, Sam and I were both about to explode in frustration and anger. But Sam, moved by the Holy Spirit, no doubt, began to sing in a churchy lounge singer voice (he is exceptional at making up stupid songs that repeat the same line over and over and over and over), "Jesus! I surrender! Help me Jesus! I am so frustrated!" And I just started to shake with laughter until I was shaking with sobs and the only up side to this total implosion of emotions was that it fascinated Elena enough that we managed to clothe her after all.
Then we stayed up too late watching LOST and the girls were up every two hours last night, so I find that I am still in that wobbly place called self-control. Thank God I have the phone number for Pagliacci Pizza memorized.