Tonight was the kind of night I want to remember on my death bed. My children were all sweet and giggly. The ones with motor skills took steps to be helpful. My sweet husband apologized for eating too much of the “delicious dinner” I had left in the crock pot (vegetable and venison soup). We all piled on the couch (John and I were the only ones who stayed on the couch) for an hour. I’m so thrilled to be able to spend one whole hour with my husband! The children were taking turns sitting and our laps. They were vying for our attention and each one grinned whenever they caught our glimpses.

When I am old, I want to remember tonight. I don’t want to remember the sea of diapers I swim out of in order to get to my classes. I don’t want to remember the nap-worthy tears shed every afternoon. I don’t want to remember the race to clean a peanut butter laden hand before it finds its way to the walls. I don’t want to remember that my son announces his presence so loudly that he wakes the baby. I don’t want to remember my husband falling asleep with a red pen in his hand because he is exhausted.

Tonight, I sat with my husband and my children laughed.

On my home from work, I thought about my students, the need to go to the grocery store—again, my dishes that I meant to do earlier today while I was chasing my kids and writing a practice test, and the third load of laundry (the one that I didn’t finish). I didn’t go to the store and I didn’t wash dishes or dry clothes. That usually bothers me, but tonight is the night that I sat with my husband while my children laughed. While I am usually bothered when my chores are not complete, I have decided that I’ll just have to be pleased with clean laundry and dishes and a stocked fridge another day.