I’m a little off this week. I got knocked off my game, and I’m still trying to jump in. I can’t fall asleep. We’re late for school drop off and pick up. I’m late to make dinner. There are still errands to run and surprised purchases to make. The boys are throwing fits and whining. Tornado A adores the word “no.” I’m taking too long to get to chores, and chores are taking too long to do. The weeks of smooth sailing have hit choppy water, and I’m at lost to make it through. I feel rushed and stressed and stretched and klutzy. But I know I can do this.
In the chaotic whirlwind that tosses me around, I pick up Tornado A to carry him. I stop and look at the side of his face as he stares out to see what is ahead of him. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. Just like his brothers. Everything clicks into place. I can do this.