The Life I Chose...

I sat there. Middle of the playroom floor. Across the room I spotted the day old remains of a bright, slimy yellow cheesestick. I glance at the couch. Four cubes of butter greased its' soft leather seats. I see the torn open Imperial Margarine box and realize my two year old invaded my fridge...again. I first roll myself slowly onto all fours. I cautiously crawl over to retrieve the yellow pice of cheese. Luckily, there was an old wet diaper sitting there too. The one my daughter took off and then proceeded to potty on the floor. Perfect. I rolled the cheese remnant into the soiled $.30 diaper and threw it in the opposite direction of the room. I then decided to actually stand up and retrieve the baby wipes. I notice that we are painfully low on such a precious commodity. Only about 30 left. The new ones I just ordered should be here in a few days. I figure if my daughter only has a stinky diaper every other day, we should be fine. So, very cautiously, I start wiping up the margarine from the couch. One, two, three baby wipes. I am starting to get a little nervous. I decide to alternate with paper towels. We are not quite as low in inventory on the Branwny's. As I use one hand as a resting place for the four muddled, disgruntled cubes of margarine, my other hand lovingly wipes down the cushions looking for any extra scraps of butter packaging. I stand once again. I glide toward the kitchen and eye the white, plastic garbage can. I let the margarine rest in peace. 

I then proceed to retrieve the cheesy diaper and decide to let that also rest in the white plastic. I than return to the playroom. I sit. I musn't trust my children alone again. 

I had escaped for a few minutes to lay in my bed with a freezing cold ice pack. This awful headache won't loosen it's grip on the left side of my head. The right side is fine. It is telling me that I can go on. The left side is trying to tear me down and make my brain explode. So instead of retreat up to my room once again, I pop another excedrin and pray for it effects. No dice. 

James will be home at midnight. 

I lay there thinking about throwing up. Knowing I am not lucky enough to be successful. So I just lay there.

I wonder again, Is this the life I chose? Of course I didn't choose the migraine, or the husband working late, or the daughter who is obsessed with smearing butter all over my house, but I guess, yes, this is indeed the life I CHOSE. And actually, I also get to choose how I handle it.

I abruptly take Naomi upstairs and send her to bed with a sippy of milk and a very short story. Success.

I take the boys in my room and turn on an episode of Clone Wars and threaten their life if they make a peep. It was so successful, we actually just watched the next Clone Wars. 

For some reason, I really, actually feel fine, now. I mean, not perfect. But tell me who in this world feels absolutely perfect? So yes, this is the life I chose. And now I choose to go upstairs, crawl right in the middle of my two sleeping boys, and wait for their dad to come home to move them into their own beds. And I choose this.