When They Sleep, There is Peace

Most of our days are good.  Not great, love-my-life fantastic, but good.  We've all survived, had few fights, eaten a couple of food groups and had some fresh air.
In my world, that's a good day.

There are a handful of truly terrible days, and it's often nobody's fault - it's just a bad day.
On its own.

I learned recently that our little fella doesn't care for curry.
As in, for hours following my consumption of this spice, he had whole body writhing gas pains.
Poor guy, and also...
super fun.

Rewind to the point at which I'm enjoying the delicious curry.
Chicken, rice, veg - everything good, and then some curry.
So.  Yum.
Boy releases unearthly sounds from guts as he swings happily, continuing to coo.
Pick up said child to change rear end, and notice some chicken curry on the side of my hand.
Give it a lick.

It's.  Not.  Curry.

I repeat.

Not.  Curry.
Ew.

First time in three children I've had poop in my mouth.  So gross.
Damn yellow poop.

Universe decides that isn't enough punishment for the curry deliciousness and blesses me with a truly awful day of crying, constant fussing and screeches.
I shall never enjoy curry again.  Ever.

Eldest kid is at school.
I haven't decided yet if I love school or if I feel like I'm back in school.
Today, it's cool.
Middle child has been resisting potty training/elimination communication/learning to use the loo - whatever you want to call it.
Today, she's decided to self train.
On a fancy napkin.
Thanks,  Ellie.  You're so thoughtful.

There are umpteen-bazillion articles about how to survive the early years.
In my experience, what's served me best is having a sense of humour and knowing that being upset is OK.
Also, patience is a virtue.
Really, though, the sense of humour thing is paramount.
This too shall pass, and in a few short hours, it won't matter that one kid just cracked the other on the head with a toy, or that your name has been whined spoken 200 times in the last minute, or that your kids are all crying, at the same time, and your husband just texted that he's stuck in traffic.

It's OK to cry, but it's also OK to laugh, even if it's maybe not so appropriate.
On more than one occasion, my oldest has asked my why I'm laughing, and I've responded that someday, she'll know, but for now, it's all there is to do.
I have a generally happy demeanor and one day, while we were driving, she asked me why I wasn't smiling.
Profound.
Didn't ever consider that she can always see my face in the rearview mirror.
Being a Mom cannot suck my happiness out.  It's too important for myself and it's too important for them.

I try not to simply survive our days, but to somehow enrich their lives, but that's not always reasonable.
Then I try not to beat myself up for being the worst Mom on the planet.
(Not really.  Except sometimes it feels that way.)

And I know I've been victorious, each and every day, when they're all sleeping soundly in their beds with full bellies, sometimes clean faces and rarely, clean teeth also.