Compost this! And that. And everything else.

Why, yes, I am sitting down with my feet up, drinking a mug of tea and kind of watching Camp Rock.

The house is a disaster and has been in a constant state of disarray for  nearly two weeks.

Tonight, I'm giving myself permission to not let it put me in a bad mood. The husband is off at some nerdy computer geek thing for the evening so it was me, my girls and the bad dog — she's been stripped of good dog status for the night because she stole food from the kids and then ate hard boiled eggs off my plate while I was away from the table during dinner.

After pissing and moaning about the dog and throwing a tantrum because the kids splashed half the bath water onto the floor, I said the hell with it. If I had any energy left, I would get off the couch and reward myself with a bottle of wine ... maybe even a glass to go with it. Maybe.

You see, I was productive for the first time in at least a week, and it feels good to sit down and really think about what I got done.

Looking for love?

"love your life"

I don't know if that was the entire quote or not, but they are the words I saw scrawled across the shoulders of a woman at the gym earlier this week. They struck a chord. They hit me deep.

I have enjoyed my life for the most part. Many times, though, I have found myself resenting moving away from my family and friends, or hating that we don't have a six-digit income. I've gotten angry because I can't keep up with the dog hair or the toys that overrun the first level of our home. And while those things seem like negatives, I have mostly enjoyed my life.

Enjoyed. Not loved.

I have frequently failed to understand that loving my life doesn't mean I am supposed to enjoy every aspect of it, but rather as a whole love it for all of the experiences, the joys as well as the trials and tribulations, that have come my way.

As far as I'm concerned — and I'm merely one person and one opinion — loving something means you are passionate about it, and I am definitely passionate about my life. I'm finally starting to understand that as I've had a chance to reflect on the things I truly am "passionate" about. The things I live for and love. Naturally, my top two are my babies and my husband. Then coffee.

Well ... some days coffee is the very top of the list. OK. A lot of days. Man, I love coffee!

Calmed by the chaos

"Please don't hit the dog with your carrot!"

As parents, we often utter — and overhear — phrases that are totally off the wall when not in context of certain situations. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would say those words in that order in one breath. Ever. But, I said it this morning thanks to the current youngest goober in the family.

Charlotte has been trying for 10 months to cut teeth, only succeeding so far to have two bottom pearly whites pop through. Since she likes to chew on anything she can to ease the pain, I washed up a carrot while making soup and handed it to her to gnaw on. She started off nibbling gently. Then promptly chomped down on it, got pissed off because her face hurt and started beating our Lab mix, Bailey, in the head with said carrot. Naturally, she was screaming and the tears started flowing as though the dog had been the one hitting her instead of the opposite.

Things like this are always happening in our house. Josie tries to ride on her sister like a pony, or climb on Bailey in an attempt to further her chances of being a professional bull rider later in life, and in an attempt to stop someone from getting hurt we catch ourselves saying the most ridiculous things. The only surefire result is a fit of laughter in most cases. Unless, of course, someone actually has gotten hurt.