I got to do my job

It was a late night, which made for a morning, completely devoid of rhythm, routine and corresponding happy Blossoms.  It seemed like everything I'd ever taught them flew out the window like an unwelcome sparrow. 

Queue whining. 
Queue disrespect. 
Queue foot stomping. 
Queue tears. 
Queue it all,
About everything. 

But, we persisted, as best as we could.  Sometimes I think that the only real "secret" to parenting is persistence.

It wasn't beautiful in an orderly sort of way.  It was just Mommy, dealing with each little whine, each little sass, and then returning to the matter at hand. 

And then, it was 4:40pm and Daddy walked in.  I answered his "How was your day?" with a deep breath and a brief summary of all that went on.  But then, it hit me.  It really doesn't matter if that's how my day was.  It doesn't matter if that's what I did all day - corrected, disciplined, reproached and taught. 

That's my job.  That's why I stay home.  So I can be the one correcting and building character.  So I can be the one teaching respect.  So I can banish whining.  So I can cure foot stomping.  So, yes, It was a good day. 

I got to do my job.