Today there was a lot to complain about.

It started when I sliced my finger as I was peeling potatoes to make home fries. (I’m okay)

On our routine morning walk, I was out of breath from the humidity and managed to roll one of the stroller tires right through dog shit. 

Later I sweat my bum off at the playground. Like cheeks bright red, forehead dripping, T-shirt soaked kind of hot. Plus I got a splinter from those damn wood chips that cover the ground.

For some strange reason, I went back to the kitchen for yet another failure as we tried to make s’more’s cups for dessert but I completely forgot the flour. 

Yet throughout the course of the day, I heard things like, “You’re the best cooker ever, mama,” and “it’s okay mama, we tried our best.” I was even asked, “can we stay for like 50 more hours because this is so much fun?”

And best of all, I heard a ton of laughter.

Like when we saw the bubbly disaster in the kitchen.

And when we tried to blame the stinky poop smell on the forest animals.

And when we slid down the swirly slide together.

As I think about it now, I know I raised my voice a little too much.

I grumbled under my breath one too many times.

There was even a swear or two throughout the day.

I’m tired, sweaty and my muscles ache.

But something in my heart is telling me that years from now, they aren’t going to remember all the complaints or moments when I lost my cool.

Instead they will remember the feel of the breeze blowing our hair as we sped down the slides and the feel of my arms as I guided them across the monkey bars.

They will remember the taste of their fingertips when I let them lick the bowl clean and the smell of our burnt baking disaster that had us laughing until our tummies hurt.

They will remember the daily walks. The moments in the kitchen. The playground adventures.

And I will too. Because one day, too soon, our days on the playground will be done.

So no matter how many mishaps or complaints there were today, they don’t outnumber the wins.