My favorite children's book is"A Good Day" by Kevin Henkes.
It starts out
"It was a bad day"
I laugh to myself  every time. Even on such a small scale, I love irony.
But seriously, it's a book I wish I'd had as a child, a story of how a bad day can become a good one. Because now, as an adult, it's a lesson much harder learned. Some days, I can overcome a bad day. But mostly, I can't. The kick-in-the-stomach feeling lasts and lasts, and causes my already short temper to be Insta-Fuse.
I had a good day yesterday. I got (almost) everything done: I cleaned out storage bins by the front door, I did (almost) all the laundry, I emptied and reloaded the dishwasher, I made dinner, I took kids to park, I went through my 1st graders botomless backpack, I did school pick-up twice, I got gas, I read books to the little kids, I went to the gym, I trimmed back dead plants, I re-potted plants, I went by the store. I put together two storage boxes from Ikea.
A good day.

Fun Run

This will be the first year in a long time that our family won't be participating in the Myrtle Beach Fun Run, a part of the Myrtle Beach Marathon. The schools here compete for the most participants, and win money for their PE departments. I have fond memories of the Fun Run, which also includes dinner and a "free" trip to Ripley's Aquarium, where the run begins and ends. Well, the kids are at a new school this year, and we haven't heard a thing about the run, which is okay, because I had already decided it had gotten too expensive for our family: it would have been 75 dollars this year. (And the dinner is only a chick fil a kids meal; it used to be pizza).

I have pictures of our whole family for at least the last three Fun Runs, which is a rarity. In '08, I looked happy because I had just started a new job, lost a little weight and got my hair done. In '09, I was 8 months pregnant with Beatrice. My Ob was also at the run with her kids, they ran the whole time. And last year, of course, Beatrice was almost 11 months old. She had just taken her first steps earlier in the day, and it was SNOWING. Not a day to forget easily.
I will miss it.

Dirt.

My house is too small for seven people. Or we have too much stuff. Or a little of both. What I know for sure is that I can NOT keep up with the dirt in my house. The Dirt. Not the clutter, which I'm constantly picking up or directing other people to pick up but the Actual Dirt. It's everywhere, and it appears instantly after cleaning. I blame the children, the boys in particular, but I think we are just extra dirty people, or extra dusty?

Mothering Today

I have five children, born over the space of 10 and 1/2 years. The oldest four are boys; I wanted a girl every time. EVERY TIME. Some of the times I was shocked to find out the baby as a boy, some of the times I was sorely disappointed, but not surprised. I turned into a very bitter person. This was honestly not a hard change in personality. In fact, it was very, very easy to become bitter and unhappy. It was easy and fun to blame and hate my husband and all men, and even blame the boys for being boys. I became overly dependent on wine, food and perversely, my husband. I cried overmuch. I, of course, thought everything would change if I had a daughter, of if I already had one. I sabotaged my own life and happiness, as well as my family's. I didn't even feel as if I had a family. I shopped for the boys in anger, hating everything I was buying and all the salespeople that spoke to me, that made fun of me for having so many boys. Many, Many people laughed awkwardly and nervously at the amount of boys I have, especially when I was pregnant or had a new baby.
Well, I finally had a girl. I knew she was a girl from conception, but let the laughter and derision of others cause doubt. When I found out she was a girl, in October of  '09, I felt as if my whole life was changed. I was happy, very happy. The boys seemed more normal and less bad. Boy clothing and bedding looked more attractive to me, now that I didn't have to have it. I talked more freely and easily to people. I was less mean and negative. I cared less about what people thought and said.
(There were some bad times, or not great times, still.)
Here's what I didn't expect or anticipate. The chip I carried all those years on my shoulder,(or shoulders) didn't quite disappear. In fact, I remember the moment I realized it turned around on me and bit me on the ass. I stayed too unhappy too long to recover fully. I focused on my desire for a daughter as the panacea to fix my life, and did nothing to fix my life. I rode the waves of fate docilely and cried because I was floundering. I made no choices except to not make any.
And having five children is Hard. And expensive. I haven't been able to enjoy having a daughter as much as I would like. I have rarely been alone with her. She plays with the boys more than I would like, and is too rough. I have to split my time into too many pieces. I find I'm still jealous of people with more than one girl, and I could easily delude myself into letting that be my new goal, instead of focusing on the children I have. I have hard decisions and choices ahead of me; long days with the children and long nights of work. I have to go deeper and deeper to summon up the energy and patience to play, or clean, or not yell. To take a small child by the hand and go the park, or to Time-Out. To live the Life I Have. To find a little Joy.