Today was Palm Sunday. Every Sunday I truck my kids to Mass, and it seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up being 5-10 minutes late. It drives me crazy. It's difficult to accept that I have limitations, but for my own sanity, I have learned to accept it. Palm Sunday is, however, its own kind of crazy. Here's how it went: At 7:00 am, my darling children awoke me as per usual by crawling all over me, jumping on my stomach, putting their elbows in my face, and in general, treating me like the human jungle-gym that I am. I dragged myself out of bed and changed baby boy's poo filled atrocity, ran downstairs to grab clothes from the dryer and came back upstairs. "Mommy, can I do a craft?" "Sure, baby." "Mama! Me eat!" Get breakfast. "Mamamamamamamamamamamamama!!!!" Pick up baby boy. Clean up breakfast. Clean up glue. Yes, that's a lovely picture of us. "Mommy, how do you spell your name?" Get two year old...
Teacher and Mother, Walking the Path with Humor and Love