The other day, I was thinking about a few things that drive me absolutely crazy. This is a small sampling of what came to mind:
It drives me crazy when I put the kids down for a nap and the girls hop out of their cribs, for the next 90 minutes (or more), despite my pleas to every power in the Universe for them to remain put.
It drives me crazy when I prepare a nice (or even quick) meal, only to have the children fingerpaint with whatever it is I am serving, and then put their plates - with whatever food remains on it - on top of their heads.
It drives me crazy that every time I clean a room, it is reduced to shambles within 5 minutes. Usually less.
It drives me crazy when someone wants something that someone else has - and rather than wait until their sibling tires of that toy, they bash each other over the head with wooden blocks and scream.
It drives me crazy when I give the kids crayons to color with, they feel obliged to color on the table, walls and any other stationary object, EXCEPT paper. And if they do color on paper - it's not the paper I intend them to color on. It's something important like ... our tax return.
It drives me crazy when I find nice "indoor" toys, outdoors. After the sprinklers have come on.
It drives me crazy when we're at Costco and I ask Charlie to go pick up a box of cereal and then, clearly specify "Not Cheerios. Get the Special K with berries in the RED box", and he meets me at the checkout line with a monster size box of Cheerios. AND THEN, has the audacity to defend his position. Because he heard "Cheerios".
It drives me crazy that I don't have twelve more hands, four more eyes, and have lost my ability to put on socks.
But then, I started thinking some more.
I love when after hopping out of their cribs for 90 minutes (or more), the girls finally fall asleep and five minutes later, William wakes up. I love that he will walk out of his room and clutching all of his beloved stuffed animals and blankets will sweetly say "Hi Mommy!"
I love when after I prepare a nice (or even quick) meal, usually before the children dump their plates on their heads, they will fold their little hands in prayer and shout "AHMEN!" and then happily exclaim "YUMMY!!!"
I love when after I clean a room and the kids quickly pull every toy off every shelf and flip the box with 10,000 Legos in it upside down on the kitchen floor ... they will sometimes, put a Lego or two back in the box and yell "I DID IT! I HEPPED!"
I love that every so often, in the midst of chaos, someone will acknowledge that someone wants something that they have. And rather than fight over the toy - they will graciously give that toy to their sibling.
I love that when our children are handed crayons, they will furiously scribble with some shade of yellow, and then stand back and proudly exclaim "SUNSHY!"
Although I can't say I love it, I am impressed that the majority of indoor toys I find outdoors, are books. With all that Mr. Brown can do, it would be great if he could also withstand 15 minutes of sprinklers.
I love that my husband, despite his inability to effectively hear all the words that come out of my mouth, puts clean pajamas on my pillow every single night and replaces the head on my toothbrush after two months. Just because.
I love that although I don't have superhuman powers, Charlie and I are managing to do this, by ourselves. I love that we have the flexibility with our careers that we can cut out of work at 11 AM on a Tuesday to attend a dance class, or 3 PM on a Thursday to attend an arts & crafts class. I love that we can take a long lunch on Friday and ride the carousel, or go for a walk on the beach Wednesday morning.
I love that despite my mounting discomforts of pregnancy, I am able to do just about anything and everything that I want. Except put on my socks. At this point in my triplet gestation, I was on bedrest in the hospital with a drip of magnesium sulfate.
The little things can certainly drive us crazy. But like everything, it's all in the way you look at it.
I for one, am extremely grateful for all of my "little" things.