Right where I'm supposed to be

Last week was not the best week I've experienced in awhile, as I'm sure you'll remember the whining in this post and this one. So what did I do, but invite my niece and nephew - Tater's tots - and Mrs. Coach's kids over for a sleepover. Paul said I was a numbskull of taking on a party involving six elementary school kids, plus a preschooler, but I knew what I was doing.

It was exactly what I needed.

Those seven kids were like medicine for me. Therapy, so to speak. They were loud and rowdy and obnoxious. The boys kept farting and beating each other with plastic swords. They played Godzilla on the PS2 and got even more wound up. The girls dragged out every Littlest Pet Shop pet and every stitch of dress-up clothes in the house, chased the boys with makeup and squealed like their toes were being eaten by rabid hamsters. Paul sat in the recliner and grumbled about the noise.

And in the middle of all of that, I sat at my dining room table and cut out scraps of fabric with my pinking shears. I was completely aware of what was going on around me, fully cognizant of the cacophony in the next room and I was as happy as a lark.

My mom has been out of town this week and called to check in while I was sitting there in a reverie of Disney Princess and Tinker Bell fabric. She asked what I was doing and without hesitation, my reply was, "I'm just sitting here doing what I'm supposed to do."

Simple as that - I was doing what I was supposed to do. It hit me like a ton of bricks. No matter how crazy things get, I have to realize that those three kids I gave birth to are the absolute most important things in my life. They are the reason I get up in the morning. Everything I do, in some way or another, comes back to being about them. Going to school, cooking dinner, doing laundry, paying the bills.....it's all for them.

Don't misunderstand, I haven't lost view of myself. Not in the least. I know who I am and what I'm all about, but I also know that nothing makes me feel more complete and whole than those kids. Staying at home on a Friday night, cutting out squares of fabric so that my daughters, my niece and their friend can decoupage them onto terra cotta pots makes me giddy. Watching my son, my nephew and their friend chase each other up and down the hall with the incredibly annoying, wish-we-had-said-no-to-that-one, Star Wars gun from Disney World and the Captain Jack sword with sound effects, makes me laugh. I spent $30 on junk food earlier that day and I was nearly as happy as the kids when I unveiled the "bag of crap," as they called it. The only rule I gave them was "Please don't destroy the furniture, kids." And with that, I turned 'em loose.

Paul followed me into the kitchen at one point and said, "Holy shit, why do they have to be so LOUD?"

"Because they're kids. It's what they do," I replied as I hugged him. "And tonight.....tonight, my dear, we are doing what we're supposed to do."