This will not be a post about the joys of raising children.
This is about the messy, exhausting, mind-frying job of keeping one's children from destroying everything in their path.
Yesterday at church, there was a reception between services with cake as a refreshment. I was responsible for Hope and Jonny, who of course wanted as much cake as possible. Have you ever tried to balance a piece of sheet cake on a flimsy paper plate? Now picture this with a four year old. We dropped TWO pieces of cake on the carpet before Mama realized we should probably lay the cake on it's SIDE.
Hope had her share of cake, with me trying balance her on my hip and fork it in, but then I put her down to talk (and bring back the feeling in my arm) and she lovingly rubs her face all over my upper thigh/black pants. And of course I'm singing in 10 minutes.
The cake came out, the children were sufficiently sugared, and we lived to tell about it.