Satireday

Saturday started just fine. No shouting at breakfast, no food tossing, hubby off to work.
Then comes time to get ready for the Fun Fair. As I step out of the shower I hear screaming "EEEWWWW!". My youngest child, the Fecal Artist, had thrown poo all over the playroom. So as I'm running through the house in a towel, it donned on me that today would probably go downhill.
Fun Fairs are fun if you are under the age of twelve. Enough said.
After two meltdowns and no naps it is time for the grocery store. Once again, I should have known a downhill slide was to begin. While the police officer smiled and chuckled at me, I pulled the Fecal Artist out the the cart so that the fighting, hair pulling, slapping, and hitting would cease between FA and Really Wants a Cookie kid. How fortunate that during this incident, my oldest child's best friend's mom was there. She and my Kid Entertainer at the Grocery Store walked away in glee. Once cookies were distributed, Really Love That Cookie kid fell asleep in the car cart and I had to carry the Fecal Artist the rest of the trip (I really should know to keep my sling in my purse).
On the way home I heard this song by Trace Adkins. I've been told at least a hundred times that I will miss these days and I keep thinking: Really? Really am I going to miss picking up poo, dealing with screaming children, sore biceps and shoulders, and children that will be awake until midnight because they decided to take their nap at 4:15?
I know what I will miss. I'll miss holding their smiling sweet faces in my hands as I kiss their cookie covered cheeks!
Gotta run, I think the Fecal Artist just barfed up lollipop and cookie!