being a parent is challenging, every day.  every day, i'm pushed to the very brink of how much noise i can take before my head explodes, how many times i can calmly and loving say, "please stop _____" and how many iCarly episodes i can endure before my brain leaks out of my ears.

tonight, i did something i'm not proud of.  my kids were completely ignoring me - yelling, talking over my voice, not doing what i asked - so i locked myself in my room.  and they raced to the door and cried - my sweet baby boy cried like he thought he'd never see me again.  and i heard his little scared voice, and i thought, "hey, maybe this'll get through to them."  and micah said, "c'mon, let's go fix her a snack.  maybe she'll come out."  and i thought, "ooh, i hope they bring me the sorbet."

YUCK.

that's not what i want out of this.  that's not what they deserve.  but, hey, i guess i'm not the first mom to do that.  and it might not even be the last time i do it, as sad as rowan's cries made me feel inside.  we are all just doing whatever feels/seems/sounds/looks like it might possibly be the semi-right thing to do at that unique, brand new moment in time.  right?  

every day, the questions flood my brain - am i ruining them?  do they know how much i love them?  do they know i'd lie down in traffic, right now, for them?  do they know i'd lift a mountain, swim to the bottom of the ocean, and lasso the moon?  do they know, sometimes i sit in my room and cry myself into a snotty mess, just because i'm thinking about how crazily i love them?  

they should know.  if they don't know that, every day, every second of their lives, i'm doing it wrong.