I just posted about the sad little boy who misses daddy and their mother who's frustrated with the whole situation (aka moi). After taking a break during the writing of that post to snuggle my son, he went on to calm down and get a snack and share it with his baby sister.
I went on to vent my frustration, finished up and headed into the other room to refill the beloved (and oh so necessary) coffee cup.
On my way there, what to my wondering eyes did appear?
I found three of the children in the bathroom. The baby sat on her potty chair. The oldest read our old worn copy of The Potty Book For Girls and the son provided a cheering section.
Suddenly, my perspective has shifted.
I still want some understanding. I still want to spare the children this grief. I still want a freaking break. Yet I recognize that we have sweet, caring, understanding kids. I realize that our experience makes me uniquely equipped to meet their needs