I often wonder how hard and how often I can fail before the world throws up its collective arms.
Or at least my husband throws up his arms.
And takes the children far, far away from their perfectionist-seeking neurotic mother.
Tonight, Paul told me that that story was getting old.
I’m tired of being irrationally irritated by empty Yakult bottles and sticky plates left behind.
I come home from running errands or hanging at the pool with the kids and that’s all I see.
I see the dishes.
I see the toys.
I see the shoes.
And it all immediately starts chipping away at my mood in an unbelievably rapid pace. It doesn’t matter how chipper I was moments before I unlocked the door, because all that will evaporate like an unattended glass of white wine.
Instead of the dirty dishes I need to see the Sunday pancake breakfast.
Instead of the toys I need to see the sisters that played together peacefully all morning.
Instead of the shoes I need to see the amazing little people I get to share my life with.
Its two sides of the same coin.
Its up to me which side I see.