I feel as though it is by luck alone that I get the kids out the door each morning. That they've eaten at least a quarter of a bagel. That everyone's wearing underwear. That we're only a few minutes late for school. That their hair has been brushed, or at least looks like it has been. That there's more than a 50/50 chance that homework has been done. That I've packed a reasonable lunch for myself (reasonable as in, something edible found its way to my purse). That there are two adult-sized socks and two matching running shoes in my gym bag. That dinner was more than toast and candy cane Joe-Joes. That teeth were decently brushed or at least each kid walked into the bathroom, picked up a toothbrush, and put it somewhere near their mouths. That lights went out with only a reasonable amount of stalling. That I could check my email using my nose on my Apple Watch while scratching my three-year-old's back "sixty-ten" times. That I can sit down with my husband and talk uninterrupted for 8 minutes. That I can get into bed with enough time to read at least one page in my book before falling asleep with book in hand.
Luck alone, friends.
Sweet baby cheezits.
