Some days I cannot cope with my children. I drown in the cacophony of yells of happiness and shouts of bickering. Three, boisterous boys talking over me. Never listening, just shouting. Staking a claim to their right to be here. Each fighting for the love I give readily and freely, equally and fiercely to them all.
My head aches, my brain is crushed, coping with my own anxieties. Craving their understanding and love in return. Bequeathing me a gift of silence, a moment of tranquility. I too become a needy child, but I must be the adult I sometimes do not want to be.
I often fail them at this point and I fall into the shouts and release of noise that streams from my mouth, reprimanding, controlling them with my yells and repeatedly falling in to the abyss of my own frustrations.
Love brings me back, love rescues me, love restores our peace.
My kids are me, they love me, they teach me, as I must guide them.