Sometimes I Forget

I was having one of those mornings where essentially every single thing my children did was getting on my nerves. Harper spitting up on my last clean pair of jeans? Annoying. Harry yelling at me from the basement for help with a video game while I was nursing Harper? Aggravating. Harry telling me wasn't hungry, then asking me to make his lunch two seconds after I sat down to eat my own lunch? Frustrating. Harper waking up while I was making Harry's lunch while my own lunch grew cold? The end of my rope. 

And then we went to Target. After putting the kids in the car, I climbed in, buckled up, and said to Harry, "I'm going to use this car ride to put myself in a better mood," and he said, "Me too, Mom." So we spent five minutes quietly in the car, then shared a pretzel as we strolled through Target and Harper napped. Thirty minutes later, everyone felt much better.

And once my mood had improved, I was able to remember how adorable and bright and fun these kids are, and how lucky I am to have them in my life and in my family.

She always looks this happy after spitting up. I guess it's therapeutic.

Looking pensive. Before the mood-improving pretzel, obviously.