9:45 pm.  Finally...dishes done & kitchen clean, laundry stain-treated, homework checked, lunches made, stack of school papers sorted for recycling, unnecessary time-wasting school form filled out, living room straightened, baby bathed & nursed, kids read to & prayed with & sung to and put to bed--and re-put to bed (can I just say I had them all in bed by 8:15 but still at 9:30 no one was asleep.  Nathan & Courtney decided to play teddy bear volleyball between their beds, Abby was up with a headache, Nathan snuck out of bed and hid on the stairs for a while, and Emily whined downstairs from her bed wanting to know why in the world I wouldn't come down there again.)  I'm exhausted.  I am finally learning, however, (after nearly 10 years of parenting) not to beat myself up with thoughts of "what in the world did I do all day?"  No, I KNOW what I do all day.  Though many days I don't have much to show for it, this is by far the toughest job I've ever had.  And, added to that, I do it by myself most evenings when Wade is at work. 

Confession:  I wrote this post for myself.  Sometimes it makes me feel better to see in black and white what I did in a mere two hour time span.  Thanks for obliging.

Delusions of Grandeur

Why is it that the world is good and all seems well when my house is clean? And why am I always convinced that I will be able to keep it that way for more than a day?