Yesterday was one of those days. You know the kind. The ones where it feels as though the baby hasn't slept for more than 20 minutes at a time in a week, where the three-year-old falls through the cracks of the day, leaving me wondering if I even know him, where the seven-year-old and I find ourselves butting heads until it spirals into a full-blown stand-off. Those days where the choices are to either allow yourself to fall into the abyss of grumpiness, self-pity, and bad choices, or to pull yourself up with the sheer strength of your will and turn things around. And you choose the former.
Yeah, one of those days.
And then, family and love work their magic.
The baby charms you with a smile and a giggle. The three-year-old introduces you to the Butterfly-Pirate. You offer to collaborate on a new skirt for the seven-year-old, and her admiration of its spinniness tells you that you're forgiven.
And today is always a new day.