Pure Joy. . . .Not so much

Tonight was one of those nights. I knew it was only a matter of time (fleeting moments of joy). We get home from our activities and knowing that they all need to start working on chores, homework and piano but I thought I can help them or send them out back to play. I choose sanity, everyone out back. All was well until dinner time. What is it about dinner time? It always seems to all hit the fan about that time, it's inevitable. We were doing good and then the phone rang, it was my husband and he was stuck in traffic. On a side note, why is it that if you have notice and can emotionally prepare it's not so bad if they are late or are not going to be home that night, but the last minute phone calls and no emotional preparation=certain disaster. I think it is a matter of lack of preparation. So, I embark on making dinner and it is now going to be a later than usual dinner. I start making a broccoli salad and the crying starts. My 17 month old has this sixth sense of mommy is cooking and it's time to scream. She is clinging to my clothes. I unclinch her little fist full of my clothes and set her down. The screams heighten. The baby then turns to destroying, she pulls all the paper towels off the roll. She spreads her leftover lunch all over the floor and proceeds crushing it. I am hurrying to get the steak and chicken seasoned and the grill on. One child decides to start practicing piano, the TV is roaring and one is doing homework. They all need help with their activities. Long story short, I end up preparing dinner while holding a child on my hip-not ideal or fun. The others are all begging for help and my undivided attention. I tell them I am a little busy it is help you or get dinner ready, which one? Finally get dinner finished, gather kids to the table and start dividing out food. I am up and down from the table about fifty times and dinner is now cool. We finally get settled and the baby stops screaming. And in walks my husband, everyone is sitting peacefully at the table eating. Impeccable timing on missing the disastrous dinner time. But it doesn't take long. The discussion about farting starts. Then the baby decides she is done and proceeds to start chucking her plate. I take her plate and now she is pushing back on her chair. I tell her no and she starts screaming, then aspirates corn and starts dry heaving. My son starts yelling she is going to barf, my other two girls are screaming and laughing. The baby makes a gagging/throw up noise and they all hollar. My son likes the attention and continues chanting she is going to barf and anything about barfing he can come up with, to add to the chaos. Now the baby is really done. I finally get up from my half eaten, cold dinner and hold her. Thankfully at this point, my husband was there to manage the rest of the troops and help clean up dinner. But, I have a pounding headache and I am done! D---O----N----E! Done! Here is my quote for the day: “Motherhood is a choice you make everyday, to put someone else's happiness and well-being ahead of your own, to teach the hard lessons, to do the right thing even when you're not sure what the right thing is...and to forgive yourself, over and over again, for doing everything wrong.” ― Donna Ball, At Home on Ladybug Farm