My day job.

For about 10 minutes, they were both quiet, enraptured by Curious George. Then oldest stirred from his spot on the couch and youngest wiggled down after him. And off they go. Honestly? My kids have sort of been scaring me lately. I scamper after them all day, cleaning up in their wake, and the house still looks destroyed when they go to bed at night. An adorable hug-break between the two of them somehow morphs into a wrestling match... Oldest is bigger and stronger -but doesn't realize it- and youngest clawed his brother's eyeball -which hurts like, wow, but he doesn't realize it. Lots of not realizing going on around here. And how do you explain that to a 3 and 1-year-old?

They're getting into things they shouldn't and smiling cute little grins when I admonish them. Some of the day's activities are small, humble tasks that make little difference in either of our universes... sometimes, you've just got to scrub grilled cheese off the wall and try to do it with a smile. Other parts of the day force me to sit quietly on the carpet while they swirl around me like rush-hour traffic, wondering if I'm doing this "right."

"Parenting is hard," I said to my husband in the car last night.

There's a lot to keep track of: To remember to pray for your children even though you're digging around for the 8th pair of underwear today. To remember that the monotony of right now is slowly, ever so slowly, shaping their hearts and pushing them in directions you can't foresee. To remember that you do your best... you do your best with God's grace and His help. And you try not to miss what their tiny feet sound like when they flee a scene, what their little heads feel like collapsed against your shoulder after a really, really long day.