There are days when I cannot get to work fast enough. I get in the van, shut the door, turn on my uplifting music, and relax. After 15 minutes of listening to what I want to listen to and spending some quiet time in prayer, I arrive at my office. Aahhh, to drink a cup of coffee in peace. I don’t have to break up fights or send anyone to their room. No one is yelling “Moooommm!” down the hall. (And if they do, I don’t have to answer!) Instead of hearing “It’s not fair!” yelled at the top of the lungs, I only have to hear whispered grumblings now and again. And I can tune those out with my ipod. I get paid to read and write and correct grammar, all things I love. I even get to use different colored pens if I want. Really, it’s the perfect job for me.

Then there are days like this when I get to work only to wish I were still at home. Wish I were a good stay-at-home mom who can take the boys to the library or to the pool. Wish I were home digging through the boys’ rooms, getting everything organized so they can find the toy they want to play with and always have clean underwear in their drawers. Wish I had our list of family rules posted on the fridge and everyone followed them eagerly. Wish we could all lay down for an afternoon snuggle.

Sometimes I even wish I could teach the boys myself, like she does. (If you know me personally, you are most likely laughing heartily at this point.)

But here I am. And there they are.

I miss the little hoodlums.


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