This morning I spilled a bunch of milk on the floor (and on baby's freshly bathed head) while trying to help a kid with cereal.
I spilled a bottle of Baby's milk in the fridge. Our salad dressing bottles are still milky.
Also, honey (a lot of it) spilled all over our spice pantry.
M spilled cereal all over the floor.
Then the kids' frozen yogurt fell out of the freezer and on to my toe. It hurt.
This all happened before breakfast was over. I should have just gone back to bed.
The day did not get any better. Baby cried and whined. The big kids bickered and whined. Everyone was generally oblivious to my needs.
Somewhere along the way in my family's history the term "filthy ingrates" was coined to describe children. Terrible, I know. But sometimes Hubby and I toss the term around to remind ourselves that our kids are, by nature, self-absorbed. We should expect it, and in some ways its a child's perogative to assume his needs will be met. The rub is that often kids expect their every whim to be attended to. It sucks to be a kid living at my house 'cause that just don't happen 'round these parts.
Anyway, after dinner I went up stairs to put Baby to bed and beat my head against the wall. When I came down I found my son had written this note:
"From E - To Mom: I am sorry!! I hope you lick my tret. (translation: I hope you like my treat). Will you forgive me?"
E had taken all of his change (and the kid loves money) and given it to me. For the record, I gave him the money back and told him his heart change, and sweet note meant so much to me I didn't need to have his money too.
I take it back about the "filthy ingrate" thing. These kids of mine are treasures. They are sensitive and kind and compassionate (and imperfect). So what if my floors are a little sticky and I have Rice Crispys imbedded in the bottoms of my feet. I wouldn't change my life for the world.