So I'm reading my facebook posts last night and a dear friend posted about her son favoring her husband. Another friend posted about the woes of single parenting (and I have to say, NOW I understand why people stay together for the sake of the children--it's about not KILLING them!)and not being appreciated for all that she does. It brought me back to a day when I felt so loved--those days are rare--when everything seemed to really go well in our home. No one fought about what color bowl they wanted at breakfast. No one pushed a sibling out of THEIR chair. No one whined about the food selection. everyone patiently waited for me to get breakfast ready and they spoke NICELY to me (and to each other)about school, their dreams, whatever came to mind. This day is so vivid, because it only happened once. ONE TIME in SEVEN years (or if we are counting from the time I had three, one time in FOUR years. Still depressing, no?) we had a nice morning that wasn't filled with yelling, screaming and whining. Just before we needed to leave for school, my youngest ran to me and gave me a huge huge hug coupled with a sweet sigh. "Oh, Mommy," she cooed. "I just love Daddy best!"