I woke up with a husband, 2 kids, 2 dogs and a cat in our bed - we were packed in there like sardines, and my back was achy from being forced to share space and sleep on the very edge of the bed.  The girls came down in the night, looking for some "night time snuggles".  I sighed and smiled, thinking, "It won't always be this way."

I showered and got my family ready, with everyone running in different directions, with kids who are easily distracted, as their crazy emotional mommy runs around the house in a state of haphazard dress, barking out commands like a drill sergeant.  "Brush your teeth!  Brush your hair!  Please eat in the kitchen; not the bathroom!  Where's your backpack?  Are your morning chores done?!" - the whole time thinking to myself, "It won't always be this way."

It was crazy hair day at school, and my kindergartner and I were having creative differences over what that should look like. Eventually I just said "We're going to do it my way." - then she was so excited for how it turned out that I was rewarded with many hugs.  Our arguments meant they doing her hair took a half hour, and getting out the door was no easy feat this morning, especially with a tantrum for how a hooded shirt won't fit in a fall jacket without feeling lumpy to my texture-sensitive kiddo.  Then I thought, "It won't always be this way."

Our daycare provider had an appointment this morning so I kept our four-year-old a couple of hours later than usual. I took her to Walmart to look at the toys and pick up a couple of things, then we went to Starbucks for a treat.  At Walmart she wanted to look at every single baby doll and baby doll accessory and, "Oh Mommy, could you please lift me so I can see the baby up on that tall shelf?".  At Starbucks she got a water and a cookie, then sat at the bar and watched the baristas making drinks for all of the other people around us, very intently observing everything that they did and declaring that when she grows up she wants to be a Starbucks Maker.  I sipped my latte, trying to tell myself to stop worrying about the work waiting at my desk, because "It won't always be this way."

Home for the day and it's chaos - stories about who had the coolest hair, and "Eat your dinner!", and "Please don't push your baby doll stroller down the slide!", and bickering and craziness while I basically just try to wolf down my dinner and Joel works in the garage.  At bath time they were loud and crazy and messy and giggling and splashing and fighting and water went everywhere and there was more Sergeant Mom.  Then pajamas and settling in for bed and begging for one more snack, one more treat, one more show... while I thought, "It won't always be this way." 

Then, bedtime.  Kisses and hugs and sweet lullabies on my phone, and she's asleep within 10 minutes, snuggled into her bed with her baby doll, making that little "mmmmm" sound she makes to put herself to sleep, that she somehow still makes after she dozes off.  Joel is putting Gabs to bed and our house is dark and quiet.  "It won't always be this way."

"It won't always be this way."  How can one sentence have so many meanings?  A light at the end of the tunnel.  A relief.  A frustration.  A whisper to myself either as a reminder to just survive the day, or to relish in how special our "ordinary" days are.  A bittersweet feeling that puts a lump in my throats and brings tears to my eyes.  

I can't wait to spend some family time together this weekend... after all.... 

It won't always be this way.