If it Doesn't Smell Like Spit-up, it's Clean

It was another one of those days.  The kind of day where you have not a minute to yourself.  It started out with poor Bobby waking up on the wrong side of the crib.  After holding him for about 45 minutes, sobbing, coaxing a pediasure down him, he went back to bed for more (much needed) sleep.  Unfortunately, he didn't wake from the nap in a much better mood.
Sam is doing this thing where he avoids sleeping during the daytime and just cries about being tired instead.  So, there was that.  And God be praised, Ted, my steady Teddy, he was smiling and laughing all day long.  Ted helped relieve some of the pressure and demands that his brothers were imposing on me.
I had all three little lads in the basement with me for workout time.  This is where "the other side" of Bobby emerged today.  After deeming Bobby nothing short of patience itself just two days ago I was forced to deal with patience's rival.  While he tried to do a yoga pose or two with mom he mostly pried toys out of the babies hands (his "old" toys), chased the dog around the very small exercise space, climbed the stairs and tugged on mom.  It's very hard to hold the palm tree pose when you have a two year old pulling on your pants.  (Or pushing your butt during sun salutation.)
There was never one moment that was overwhelming, it was just a little "pick" here and a little "pick" there that added up to pick, pick, pick, pick, pick and by 5:30 p.m. when Pete called to say he was on his way home, I had had it!  I thought as soon as Pete got home I'd run out the door.  I could visualize myself somewhere, standing all alone.  It didn't matter where I was in this vision, what did matter is that I was all alone.
I'll tell you what though, I caved in today.  For the sake of remaining a calm and loving parent, I caved in today.  We have been weaning Bobby from his pacifier so he is allowed to have it at nap times, night time and out in public only in case of emergency.  Well, this afternoon, as if to try and cork the steady flow of, "MOM!  MORE!  BOB!" and the ever-so-frequent crying fit, I popped the ole' pacifier right in his mouth.  He welcomed it with a, "Mmmmm."  As if to say, "Ahhh, all better."  I had no idea until that moment what weaning him off of that thing has been like for him.  It seems as though it's akin to the chocoholic who is trying to "cut back" or the caffeine addict who gives up coffee for Lent.  And so it is with my child and the pacifier.  Cranky, moody, temperamental but give him that pluggie (chocolate/caffeine) and he's right as rain.
Even with the pluggie intervention there were still enough meltdowns to warrant a mommy escape after daddy got home.  The escape was in the form of a quick ride to a neighborhood restaurant with a girlfriend of mine.  We were going to have a drink and then I was going to bring dinner home for Pete and I.
I WAS STILL IN MY PAJAMAS at 6 p.m. when Pete walked in the door.  I quickly blotted on some makeup, brushed my hair (for the first time today) and put on some clothes.  My friend decided she would drive so I could rest and have a drink at the restaurant.  As I sat waiting for her to climb into the drivers side I noticed I had something on my jeans.  I checked out the shirt I had put on and noticed a spot there as well.  Quickly, I sniffed it.  Nothing.  I tried to scratch it off.  Nothing.  Cindy looked at me quizically.  "If it doesn't smell like spit-up, then it's clean, " I said.  (Told you I was going to be real here!)
It is amazing and miraculous how one short hour without anyone hanging on you, or calling your name can be so rejuvinating.  The bitter sweet beer.  The appetizers.  The din of the Friday-night-dining crowd.  Casual conversation with a friend.  It all served my body and soul as a few minutes in a hot tub, time alone in a bookstore, time in worship, or even a chair massage might have done.  All I can say is that by the time I returned home I was ready to hear my name again, to hold those sweet babies, to deal with the crying. 
I held each one of my boys in my arms before they went to bed tonight.  Feeding Teddy, rocking Sam, watching Bobby play "angry birds" as he sucked away on his comforting pacifier.  I breathed deeply and smelled their hair, touched their little hands and feet, looked down into their faces, relishing every single second with them.  It was another one of those days.  The kind of day where you don't have a minute to yourself but you go to bed thanking God for the miracle of your children, the love of your husband, for every provision and for the chance to live this life.