Parenting Is...

Betcha thought I was going to end that post title with something flowery and glorious like--

Parenting is happiness.

Or

Parenting is rewarding.

Or 

Parenting is the best job in the whole, wide world with a cherry on top of a sundae with whipped cream and sprinkles.

That would be a nope, nope and nope.

Tonight, I say--

PARENTING IS KICKING MY ASS.

(And, yep, I typed ass, 'cause it's really the only word that fits.)

My trio is truly putting me through the ringer in these late summer days of 2016.

They've apparently joined forces to wage a psychological, emotional, physical, multi-day part war that I'm limping through, day by day (hour by hour).

Man, do I love those rascals, but, for the love of all that is holy, God, can you please stop testing my capacity???

I'll share more about the largest battle I'm waging in the coming days. Tonight, for your entertainment, I'll recount the ways I've clocked out of my day job the last three nights.

Three Nights Ago...

I was on the very final homestretch of getting the last child (Chica) put down (book, songs, best-part-of-the-day talk, snuggles, forehead kisses...) when she took a drink from her sippy cup, that didn't have a properly-secured lid, and drenched herself, her nightgown, her sheets, her pillowcase, her pillow, her underwear, her socks, and then scream/cried like a banshee from the shock of it all, as I began the process of stripping everything and starting over.

Two Nights Ago...

I'd busted my ever-loving hump to get things picked up and four loads of laundry churning and burning in the early evening, so I could finally sit down around 8:45 pm and watch some Olympics with the hubby.

At approximately 8:52 pm, I sighed from the couch and almost cried from the joy of sitting down so early in an evening for the first time in forever.

And at approximately 8:58 pm, our electricity went out.

For no mother-loving reason.

Cue screaming/crying/terrified children, flashlights, candles, hauling the crew (minus Little Man, who blessedly, slept on) downstairs. I finally, finally got the girls to sleep in our bed at about quarter to midnight. And about ten minutes later, the electricity came back on.

No biggie. We just missed the women's gymnastics team earning a historic gold medal, and Phelps racking up a couple others.

And finally...

Last Night...

I was battling my beloved Chicklet in a FULL-ON sleep war until 10 pm, when she finally exhausted her poor body out. Muuuuuch more on this later, after I wrap my brain around it all.

Now, because I don't wanna end things on an oh-no-is-she-gonna-crack? note, and because God at least gives me a teeny-tiny sliver of relief each time I reach my newest breaking point...I'll share some pics of something super-fun we did yesterday.

We went to a pool party hosted by Chica's beyond-fantastic dance teacher. She invited our play date crew over to her house for swimming and food, and it was soooo lovely that the girlies are likely to never stop asking to go back.

I'll say it 'till the cows come home: this dance studio/group of dance moms has been such a blessing for us.

Now, since it's after midnight...TGIF!!!

Wish us happy mojo tomorrow!

Peace out, peeps.