The other night I was attempting to clean up the kitchen. My toddler was uncharacteristically fussy. My preschooler was in tears because Dr. Dad insisted on removing a bandage from a boo-boo to allow it to heal better and she was terrified it was going to hurt to peel off the sticky thing from her skin (it did). And, of course, the baby decided this was the perfect time to hit the milk diner.
Later the older girls retreated upstairs. The baby was happily nursing. Ah, finally some peace and quiet. Then we heard high-pitched squeals from Rae. Then the tiny tyrant (AKA preschooler Madeline) screeching, “No, Baby Rae!”
Dave looked at me. “Sisterly love.”
“I hear it all the time,” I said, not complaining but just simply stating the facts. “It’s the soundtrack of my life.”
We went upstairs to begin the bedtime routine. More squeals (mostly happy now). Lots of questions during story time. Why this and why that. Resistance from Madeline when tucking-in-time arrived.
I sighed, now feeling just a little desperate for a lull in the storm of nighttime parenting when my husband said, smiling, “It’s mostly good chaos.”
It’s wonderful being married to an optimist.
I had to grin right back at him because that about sums up the life of a mom of little ones. Mostly good chaos.