at the end of the day

Sometimes at the end of the day I have a list filled with things that have been crossed off, and that feels good. More frequently, however, at the end of the day I look around and wonder what, if anything, actually got done. The house is a mess. Toys strewn about. Cheerios, corn pops, crumbs from dinner on the floor. The table may or may not have been wiped off. Even if I cleaned something that day, the evidence of such an act has long since been undone by one or the other of them. There are usually dishes in the sink or on the counter or both. Shoes are longing for their homes. Socks are probably peeking out from under couches or cushions. Counters are hiding under papers, toys, hairbrushes, unfinished projects, and other stuff. Try as I might those unruly counters are always covered with something. Sometimes I have to take a deep breath and think about what did get done. Hugs were given. Laughs were shared. Books were read. Movies (too many of them, probably) were watched. Projects were started. Some might have even been finished. Others are waiting patiently, or not so patiently, on the counter for another day. Errands were run. Tables were wiped and wiped and wiped and wiped until I can't possibly wipe it one more time. 3, 290 crayons were picked up. Diapers were changed. Baths were given. Six million toys were picked up. And put away. And picked up again. Mail was fetched with two kids, one pushing a miniature stroller and one riding a tricycle. Shoes were put on over and over and over again. Cushions were straightened. Meals were made. Snacks were served. Zach was removed from the top of the table at least a dozen times. Sarah was sent to time-out a time or two. I refereed more times than I can count. Trains were driven. The floor didn't get mopped. The kitchen is still a mess. I probably yelled a few times. And nothing got crossed off the to do list. This feels good too. Just in a different way.