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The air stands still but my body continues to tremor. What has seemed like an eternity is finally coming to a quiet end. The lights are dim and doors are closed but my nerves remain raw and exposed. My breathing is shallow and exaggerated. My eyebrows are low and a scowl crosses my face. Attempting to regain some control over my emotions is my main focus. You see I am a mother of three wonderful, but trying children ages four, two and a half and six months, and for the past three hours my sanctuary has been a war zone.

My oldest two children are eight-teen months a part and the very best of friends. They both love trucks and dinosaurs. They laugh at funny faces and love a rough game of tickle. But they both love a good competition and unfortunately that means duking it out with each other. It could be anything from the first one to reach the swing or the first one to pick up a toy the other one has mentioned wanting. It could be parading a sibling's toy past them for the thrill of the chase that is sure to ensue. It never seems to end. Amongst the screaming is the fist fighting, biting and pinching. If I am not returning a toy, breaking up a toy tug of war I am soothing broken skin and reprimanding the perpetrator. When silence does finally break throughout our home and I can begin preparing meals, doing laundry or getting anything done our darling six month old daughter breaks into a scream. She is finally getting her first tooth and this is making her miserable. It is bad enough that my daughter is uncomfortable but she is also a baby who does not like to be set down. I can't speak from another room when someone is holding her or she bursts into tears. I certainly can not walk past her range of view without her letting me know she is there with ear piercing screams. Today was no exception. I spent the past three hours nursing a fussy baby, breaking up my sons and bandaging a bleeding head wound caused by the younger of the two boys throwing a metal tractor and hitting his brother's head. I lifted my son out of collapsed bike, where he was not suppose to be, fixed an overturned stroller twice that the boys were to be leaving alone and got the dogs to stop eating the kids cereal out of the bowl my son left on the floor. I squeezed in enough time to prepare dinner but did this through a choir of pleas from my sons that they needed my help for everything. Even now as I type my youngest son is standing in his doorway calling to me

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