I had a breakdown today.

Only two hours into the day.

I hit my limit. I wasn't prepared. I should have had activities ready.

Every. Tuesday.

I should know better.

Cora was running around like a nut. Dario was pushing Cora. She was kicking back. It was chaos all around.  They had diarrhea.  I had probably already changed 8 diapers.  Baby still had to be brought into daycare. I was nervous about running into the daycare manager as I am still waiting for her foster care assistance to go through to cover daycare (it is almost 30 days past due).  There were a million things running through my brain. On top of it I am sick and the house was in shambles. Dario was loud. Cora was loud. The kind of loud that doesn't stop. Dario could sing the abc's 234234 times a day. Then he moves on to Twinkle Twinkle. It.Doesn't.Stop. He is in constant motion. Constant talking.  During that time- Cora is crying.  For what? Your guess is as good as mine.

And I lost it.

I started shaking.

Bawling.

That cry that you do when you lose a loved one. Or lose your mind.

I screamed at the kids to go sit on the couch. They must have been able to tell by the look on my face, because for the first time in 2 hours, they listened.

I had to get it all off of my chest. I had to SCREAM it off of my chest.

I closed myself in my room.

The kids stayed on the couch.

I got it all out. All of it. All of the swear words and feelings and crap that I just needed to scream about. It was out there.

And the weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

I broke down into an exhausted puddle.

Parenting is hard.  Parenting two 2 year olds is harder.  Parenting two 2 year olds who didn't grow in my body, and were given drugs instead of prenatal vitamins and didn't have the proper care in utero is EVEN HARDER.  It is like twins. But not twins. More like quadruplets that are moving at a rate of 281mph and banging on a drum set while running in all different directions.

I have to dig down deep to find my faith.  Remind myself to have patience and in time- this all will be better. IT WILL GET BETTER.  This MUST get better. God is here. He shows himself through them right when I need Him to.  If it is in Cora looking at me with the most innocent look and her chubby cheeks and big brown eyes.  Or if it is through Dario when he brings up awesome memories or cuddles in close when we read a book together.

I am not perfect.  They are not perfect.

That is why we will be okay. Granted, in their teen years I may need to take out a second mortgage for therapy--- but we will get through it.