Lalalalalalalalala

Guys, I lost my mind yesterday.
I just want to say, I try to do a good job most of the time.  I work hard.  I know that working hard will make me happier than moping in a chair with oily hair.
I know that if I clear out the sink and exercise, I'll be more motivated to craft with the girls and have more energy for cleaning floors.  And then I'll be really happy when my floors are shiny.  I'm shallow like that.

I do love to sew and clean and cook, so it might appear that I've reached some standard of Proverbs 31-ish-ness.  Don't let this fool you.  I am not good.
One of my friends called me Martha Stewart the other day and I almost took it as a compliment until I argued that, "No, I'm just obsessive compulsive."  And she gave me a don't-be-so-tickled look and said, "Yes, you're Martha Stewart."  And then I remembered what an easy-going and fun-loving heart Martha Stewart has.  Haha.  "Oooooh, yes, I am that crabby beeeeatch that wants the onions sliced just so.  Darn it!"  She is a good friend. :)

So I was mixing up pancake batter for the morning, cooking a chocolate cake for cake balls, and making soup for dinner and all the girls wanted to help.  8 hands pulling on me.  4 hairy heads filling the batter with hair.  1 snotty nose wiping on me.  2 forks fighting to stir the flour and spilling it everywhere.  1 8-yr-old who is sure she is capable of doing all of this on her own.  The snotty one wants me to hold her.

And in-between me sending them away before every nerve in my body explodes and stragglers coming back to steal licks at the bowls, they are a family of horses.  Screaming horses, crying baby horses, mad mommy horses, neighing and galloping and fighting over Lola the baby horse.  Sometimes the fake crying turns into real crying, but the volume stays nice and high.
I realize that I've stopped breathing and all the muscles in my body are flexed from the build-up of stress.  I'm getting light-headed so I breathe a few deep breaths, close my eyes, wait for the volume to reach just to where I am sure the neighbors will have help sent over soon, and I explode.  "ENOUGH!"  I send each girl to another corner of the house and wait for my heart rate to return to normal.

This happens about 23 times in the 3 hours between girls coming home from school and Nathan coming in from work.  I am so mad that he was home at 6:10 instead of 6:00.  He's whistling, musing over the mail, telling the girls how happy he is to see them.

I hate myself and my Martha Stewartness.  Maybe I would have been happier if I had stopped cooking and cleaning and crawled around neighing for a bit.
I escaped to my shower while Nathan read them books.  I breathed deep the whole time, regretting my 3 hours of witchiness.  And really, the Lord is so good.  He heals our hearts. He washes away guilt.  He gives us new mercies and do-overs.
He reminded me that all their hairy heads are precious and some women beg their whole lives for Him to open their womb.  I have 8 eager hands crawling all over me!

Have you ever seen Rocket Man?  It's a really stupid show.  He trains to be an astronaut.  He stays locked in some room with his partner to test their ability to stay in a spaceship for a long time.  Rocket Man sings,
"John, Jacob, Jingle, Heimer Schmidt.
His name is my name too.
And whenever I go out, the people always shout,
'There goes John, Jacob, Jingle, Heimer, Schmidt!
La la la la la la la la!'"
He sings this song over and over and over, and his partner goes completely insane.

I used to feel bad like, "There is no mom as bad as me.  I am the worst mom ever.  Why can't I handle this?  I should be able to handle this all with patience."  But really, come over and enjoy 3 hours of scream-neighing horses.  They are precious and we'll laugh at it for the first 20 minutes.  But by the end we may be singing "John, Jacob, Jingle, Heimer, Schmidt. Lalalalalalalala!"