Your 2 year old daughter wakes you up yelling, "I'm Donald Duck! I'm Donald Duck!"
Over and over again.
And she is still sound asleep.
This is after you've already been woken by your husband's alarm clock and the neighbor's motorcycle.
Then your daughter, who is now awake, begins jumping up and down and yelling, "I want toast! I want toast!'
You don't even remember how she got into your bed.
And you and your husband keep saying, "OK, we'll get you some", but neither one of you is opening your eyes or getting out of bed.
You rush out of the house with a sink and counter full of dirty dishes. a couch full of clean but unfolded laundry and beds unmade.
Coming home to that won't be pleasant.
You sit in the dentist chair for 2.5 hours and have to use your relaxation techniques from labor and decide childbirth is far more enjoyable than dental work.
Upon arriving home, the children argue over which balloon they will get--the balloons the dentist gave to you and which you are sharing with them.
And you find yourself saying, "these are my balloons and I will pop them all and throw them in the trash if you don't stop fighting right now!"
And you think, "what am I saying to these people? Have I lost my mind?"
The day goes on and you talk in this voice that is calm but is actually the voice of a woman on the verge of insanity.
Calm, controlled, but one step away from turning into crazy yelling.
And you are quite certain that the neighbors are going to call CPS on you because the amount of screaming being done by 2 of the little darlings makes you want to call CPS so someone will just take the children away.
But then, cue the angel chorus, you look out the front door to see your husband arriving home early, well on time actually, for the first time in months.
And you raise your hands in the air in praise to the Lord and shout, " you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now!"
And he doesn't care that the rice is burned. He is just happy that you made him hummus. And he makes the kids sandwiches for dinner and says, "go take a shower, honey."
And he lets you escape for a couple hours and when you get home you sit in the kitchen and laugh about the day.
"All 3 kids were weeping at bedtime over different things," he tells you, "and then William dropped Baby Tiger in the toilet, after they all peed in there."
You laugh and laugh together because really, none of it is that bad.
At least not after bedtime.
Thank goodness we get to start over every morning!