A third of the way across the bridge.

Parenting is so hard sometimes, isn't it? More than ever before in life, I want to be at my best, but I'm so often not at my best. There is a lot of love in this house and perhaps it will cover all the times I get annoyed because I'm the only one in my house who is taking her chores seriously.

It's just a little too much work and no play for me lately, that's why I'm dull and noodle-like. We did read together tonight. We stopped when we realized Kenya was already asleep. Tomorrow is supposed to be devotion day and also boardgames day, and I'm trying to figure out how to fit in all the work I also need to do. I do well with one or two things that I need to focus on, but stack them up like this and I'm flailing.

Kids can be frustrating. They ask for a lot and they can't give all that much back yet. Mothers can be overwhelmed. They give a lot and they can sometimes get bogged in giving.

I've been writing the same post for three days and I still haven't finished it, so this is what you get-- some late night regret tossed with a bit of hope for the morning. What do I hope for the morning? I hope that I will feel creative again, that the birds will wake me up, that the coffee will be perfect, that pink clouds will fill the sky. I hope that I will be lighthearted rather than weighed down, that I will not be annoyed by annoyances, but that I will laugh them off. I hope that I will play, that I will get the work done, but that I will find time to play.

I hope you will, too.