Why Me?

So today was one of those days where I asked "Why me?" more than once.

After doing four loads of dishes and five loads of laundry, I asked, "Why me?" Too many days go by where I feel like all I do is dishes, change diapers, make meals for the kiddos and repeat.

Walking up the stairs, I see Emma's diaper in the bathroom..not on Emma, just sitting on the floor. I immediately prepare myself for something horrible. I walk into Emma's room and Christian is trying to change Emma's diaper. Poop is everywhere; on Emma, on her dress, on her carpet...it's nasty. Christian says, "I'm trying to wipe Emma, but it won't come off." Finish changing Emma's diaper, change her clothes, scrub Emma, scrub the carpet, all while asking "why me?"

Christian had a T-ball game tonight and I was determined to be on time and with everything we needed. We get there 10 minutes early; I was impressed with myself. I am getting everything ready to take with us when I hear THE noise. Just as I'm thinking, "Oh no! Not now", Emma throws up all over herself and her car seat. I have stopped carrying extra outfits for her because we haven't had to use them in forever. I clean up Emma the best I can with the wipes in her diaper bag while Christian is yelling for me to let him out because it stinks so bad. (Yah, buddy...tell me about it.) Emma luckily had her blanket in the van, so I wrapped her in it and went to find Christian's team. I drop him off with his coach and tell him I will be right back. As I am dragging Emma around the park in only a diaper and a blanket, I am thinking "why me?"

We get back to the park and I'm trying to hurry to get back to Christian's game. Emma starts to make those nasty noises again. She throws up again and then gets a nasty diaper. She is pretty miserable, but I can't leave Christian alone at his game. I then realize that I smell like throw up and see some on my shirt. Awesome! "Why me?"

Putting the kids to bed tonight, we read stories and sang songs and giggled. Both kids tell me they love me...Emma then throws in that I have cooties but she loves me anyway and I think "Why me?" Why am I the lucky one that gets to be their mommy? Why am I the one that gets to roll around and giggle and play with these two little ones? Why am I the one they want when they are sad or hurt? Why am I the one they run to and grab onto when I get home? Why do they make me want to be the best I can? Why am I the lucky one? Why me?