People are always asking me, “How do you do it?” I assume that they are referring to the three little ones we adopted last year and not our two teenage daughters. (They just might be asking the wrong question!) And I sometimes secretly wonder if they are really asking because our youngsters are a little, well, rambunctious. I normally don’t have to answer this question because they usually then say things like, “I just don’t have the energy” or “I couldn’t ‘go back’ to little ones again.”

I find it all pretty funny because truly, it’s just not that hard. Yes, I have had to get more organized. Yes, I cook a lot more food and wash a lot more clothes. But I also have a reason to get up every morning. I also have three adorable faces staring up at me in adoration. They don’t care what I wear. They think I’m a good dancer. They laugh at my jokes. They think every little thing I do for them is wonderful. Hey, there are big payoffs here.

Usually, that is. Sometimes, I do earn my keep.

A couple of days ago, in the midst of a huge toy sort out (aka huge mess), my social worker dropped by. It was a school holiday, so the kids were still in their jammies and we were pretty much taking it easy. I had sent our 4-year-old back to bed for a while. He was a Grumpy Gus, so we were having a do-over on getting out of bed.

I gave the other two a snack to entertain them, shoved some toys out of the way, and sat down to talk to our worker. Just then, Grumpy Gus came out looking contrite and said what I thought was, “I tore up my bed.” I said, “Okay honey, we’ll fix it in a minute.” I walked our social worker to the door and went to check on his room. What he had actually said was, “I throw up in my bed.” Yuck.

I went to the kitchen for gloves and saw our three-year-old using sick child’s cup as a cookie cutter to cut out her sandwich. Yikes. As I was taking away both the cup and the sandwich, explaining that brother was sick, I heard the unmistakable sound of the toilet lid going up. I realized the two-year-old was not in sight. Sure enough, he was in the toilet digging out the TP. Yuck.

3 baths and one set of sheets later, I thought, “I’m too old for this.” But their sweet smiles as I toweled them off made me forget all about it. Life is good.