There’s no escaping the simple truth that some days go better than others. And on those “other” days, I do a lot of counting.

“Who’s screeching? What’s going on? Get up here. Now! 1, 2, 3….”

“He’s using the permanent markers?! I specifically told him…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…keep it together, Mary, keep it together…”

“That’s it. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You have until 3 to decide. One. Two.”

And then there are the days that I am beyond counting.

“JUST DO IT!” (This does not come out sounding like an inspirational Nike slogan.)

“NO! NO! How many times do I have to tell you?”

I am not proud of those moments when I lose my…cool. (There’s another four-letter word that better describes what I lose. Here’s a hint: starts with S.)

But I was even less proud when my husband laughingly told me to look at the back of our bedroom door.

At some point in the recent past, the kids made and hung signs all over the upstairs—Nora’s room, this way. Enter if you dare. Etc. They were cute. Plus, it occupied them for a full hour.

I hadn’t noticed the sign they made for me:

Great. That’s just great.