I was one grouchy, cranky, mean, not-looking-like-someone-who-walks-with-God kinda girl this past Friday.

The worst part?  It was Sawyer’s third birthday. While I attempted to shield it from him, there were probably times that I didn’t do so very well and I feel a horrible guilt.  I have heard the stuff about guilt – it’s a pointless emotion, it’s not from God, yada, yada, yada…

I still feel it.

As the mother of three young children ages five and under, I often feel like all I do during the day is pick up messes created by curious hands that are into EVERYTHING and return random objects found in various locations throughout the house that are constantly traveling in cycle on any given day.

The latter is proof-positive that the early skill we learn of “classification” in preschool will definitely be one that will eventually be applicable in our everyday lives – I have found a can of soup in Sawyer’s room, pairs of pants and socks in the kitchen, and toothbrushes in the living room.  This is normal in our world – finding things that don’t fit and returning them to where they do.

I don’t like to use this blog as a platform to whine and bemoan the very blessed position I know I am in.  I would not trade this job for anything.  Anything.  I love what I do and am so thankful that I can do it.

It doesn’t mean that there are not going to be days that are hard.  It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to need to complain, whine, and have a pity party for myself once in a while.  So I am going to now.  It will be brief and edited.

Friday was one full day, friends.  We do that for birthdays because it is my belief that we need to celebrate whoever is the birthday person with relentless joy.  It was Sawyer’s turn and we had a day of fun planned from the start.

Sawyer loved his Tranformer bike and wanted to get out and ride it immediately after breakfast.  Though the day was a little chilly, we did just that – we walked down the street in our jammies trailing Sawyer who proudly rode his new bike with new matching helmet while he continually squeezed the very high-pitched horn.  He was in bicycle heaven.

When we returned home, I needed to shower.

Big mistake.

I usually do this luxurious task before my children wake up for the day because well, it just invokes disaster if I don’t.

I was quickly reminded why I do.

Solomon pulled out my box of tampons that had been tucked nicely under the sink. He spread them throughout the bathroom and master bedroom.  He took them apart and there were little “tampon squirrels” all over my bedroom.

I stopped and cleaned up this fiasco and proceeded to finish getting ready.

When I finished and went downstairs, I was greeted with an entire bottle of Swiffer Wet mop solution upended all over the kitchen floor.  The boys were walking in it and the bottom of their pants were soaked, so I needed to clean up the aforementioned mess AND change their clothes.  And now I was going to have to worry about the developmental delays that could transpire due to the horrid chemicals that probably leached into their bloodstream THIS ONE FATEFUL MORNING.

My mother arrived and we had a lovely lunch at Chick-fil-A and tooled around a bit.

When we got home, about twenty minutes past nap time, my in-laws arrived.

Five minutes later, Sawyer pooped in the backyard.

Then he stepped in it.

Then he walked in the house.

Need I say more?  I was cleaning up globs of human poo from my carpet, trying to clean him up, and explain that we don’t poop in the backyard. Only Ellie Rose, our beloved yellow lab, has this privilege.

Yes, I know this is showing signs of readiness.  But we had also just discussed this the day before.

We recovered (maybe) and proceeded with a wonderful dinner celebration of pizza with JJ’s parents and our beloved sitter and her husband.  A good time was had by all.

I just wanted a glass of wine at this point.

After we had gotten everyone to bed, I went straight the wine refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white.  The bottom of the bottle hit on a wire and busted all over my hand.

Mama said there’d be days like this.  I love the wisdom from Van Morrison.

But the things that did go right?  My sweet boy got to celebrate his third birthday with all set of grandparents and a family that loves him immensely. He laughed a lot.  He got to feel celebrated.  He was hugged constantly.  We treasure him beyond words.

Even when he poops in the backyard.

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