I survived winter break!

It all begins with childbirth. The only thing that gets you through the torturous hell of some evil demon trying to rip you in half is knowing that you will be meeting your little angel at any moment. When you're in the thick of it, you swear to God that you will NEVER DO THIS AGAIN! And when it's over, and you are face to face with the angelic little devil, you thank God for this little blessing and for getting you through it and for (hopefully) overlooking that
"never again" thing.

And then your little angel learns to say "mama" and it is the most angelic little sound you have ever heard. I swear I heard harps playing the very first time I heard my angels say "mama". But then "mama" becomes "mommy", and that doesn't have quite the same heavenly ring to it. Somewhere around the the 3 millionth "mommy" of the day I start to feel like I am standing at the threshold of hell. Suddenly it gets REALLY hot in here and my little angels are growing horns. With four little angel, there doesn't seen to be any gap at all between the "mommy, mommy, mommies"! I'm pretty sure that sometimes, they just say it out of habit, and if I answer, they have to think quick of something they can make me do for them. AND THEN THE SOUND OF THE THESE LITTLE DEVILS TORMENTING YOU WITH THIS ONE SINGLE WORD EVERYDAY ALL DAY HAS YOU THINKING ABOUT WRITING TO THE MILITARY AND SUGGESTING THAT THEY USE THIS TECHNIQUE AS A TORTURE TACTIC! Come 5 p.m. (and 45 million "mommies" later) on any given day of motherhood, I will break any allegiance I have ever had in return for an hour of babysitting.

Truth be told, almost any heavenly moment of motherhood really does come with a pinch of hell. This week, my children had the week off from school which meant it would be just me and the angels/devils, all alone, all day, all week. Hell. That sounds harsh, I know but there are four of them and one of me and...do I really need an "and"? But, I made it my mission for the week to not only survive, which is usually all I pray for, but to enjoy.

One day, I took my little angels bowling, along with a couple other little angels from next door. That makes 6 little angels, but who's counting (ME!). When I walked into the bowling alley, the two people working there looked at me with great confusion and pity.

"Just you with all these kids?"

"Yes just me."

"Are you all from a school or camp or something?"

"No. Four are mine and two are our neighbors. I'm pretty sure if we were from a school or camp, I would have been legally obligated to bring another chaperone along."

Right away, all hell broke lose. I tried to sit down to put my bowling shoes on and next thing I knew there were bowling balls bouncing of the floor or rolling down lanes we weren't even using, a two year old running down the lanes, boys fighting over bowling balls and dropping them on their toes, a baby crying, waiting impatiently for a bottle, and four little devils already whining about being hungry and thirsty.

And then there was the thousands of "IS IT MY TURN?!" "HEY THAT'S MY BALL." "HE'S TOUCHING MY BAAAAAL!" "I WAS GONNA USE THAT LANE!" "WHO'S WINNING?" "AM I WINNING?" "HOW COME I'M NOT WINNING!!!!!!" "I WANTED TO WIIIIIIIIIN!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And did I mention the broken glass?

After I loaded all of them into the car to go home, the little angels said "Thank you for taking us. That was so fun." And you know what? It was. Heavenly, even.

The next day, I took my two oldest angels skiing. It was the first time for both of them and it was the perfect day; warm and sunny. I had to lug multiple sets of skiis and poles all over the mountain, not to mention the occassional exhausted 4 year old angel who refused to rest because he was having so much fun. And again, I heard multiple, unsolicited "thank yous" and "this is so much fun!" from the angels. Heavenly!

And then we had to leave. I had to get home to relieve the babysitter who was home with the littlest angels. And the two little devils had simultaneous melt-downs that were so bad it was as if they were competing to see which one could be more evil. Leo was all at once, furious that we had to stop skiing, and so tired that he could not form a single excruciating sentence. And Madeline, who had had a wonderful day and spent the whole morning asking when we could come back again, had one bad run right at the end and was now swearing off skiing FOREVER!

"I'M NEVER SKIING AGAIN! I'M THE WORST SKIIER EVER! WHY DID YOU MAKE ME COME HERE! I HATE SKIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!! STOP CRYING LEO! YOU'RE SUCH A BABY!"

"YOU STOP CRYING MADDIE! YOU ARE THE WORST SKIIER EVER!!!!!!!"

Those first ten minutes with those evil little devils, on the ride home from our glorious, heavenly day together -pure hell.

And the next ten minutes, when both of my new little skiing angels fell fast asleep and I reflected on our day...heaven.

I could go on and on with this heaven and hell thing. In fact, I think all of my stories about motherhood reflect this. It is truly the hardest job you could ever love. But it's true what they say:

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for.

No pain, no gain.

I often feel like my children have been possessed by Satan and are trying to throw me into the fiery pits of hell. But at the end of every day when I do that final check to make sure the little devils are tucked in nice and warm, I can always see a bright halo over their little sleeping heads (sleeping children are especially angelic). And as that painful little knot in my neck begins to loosen and my migraine begins to subside, I lay my head on my pillow feeling just a little bit like a battered warrior.