Sidewalk chalk with my little boy and seeing my little girl smile about food. These are good moments, the ones I would prefer to remember.
But there are lots of moments that I would like to take a break, escape from the chaos developing around me. When they cling to my legs, and pull on my clothes, find messes I was sure I had cleaned, deliberately get into something they know is naughty, all accompanied by the constant call, "Mum, Mum, Mum!"
But I can't run away. Five minutes unsupervised and the mess increase by 10 times! And they are little, so I certainly can't leave them home alone to get myself a treat. So I tell my son, "Mummy needs to use the bathroom."
Little does he know that I am not there to just use the toilet. That tiny room with tile floors, and basic fixtures, is my small escape from the calling of motherhood. I crack open the small window and take in as much fresh air as I can. I wash my hands in the lavender soap a little longer than truly necessary. And if no child is banging on the door I might run the brush through my ruffled hair, just to sooth my equally ruffled temper. And when before the sounds outside that door mount to distress or disaster I say a quick prayer and go out to face it all again.
Occasionally, I try to hide my son in there, soaking and splashing in the tub. It works nicely most of the time. Then there is the time it doesn't. Having stuck the little ones in a mild and shallow bath, I cleaned up the cereal that had been spread throughout the entire kitchen. Then, while I toweled and PJed the baby sister, big brother puddled the entire floor (which needed mopping anyway) and dumped a large box of matches (left from Mums tub retreat of the night before) into his bath water. (Thank goodness he can't light them yet.)
Right now I am really looking forward to the day we have a master bathroom!