That bite of a grilled cheese, with the perfect amount of texture, the difference between the crispy bread and the melty sharp cheddar, a moment of pure bliss and indulgence.

My cozy, pure white, Boll and Branch sheets that I crawl into at night, with the nostalgic smell of good ole Tide and Downy, the cloud of my down comforter, the cotton surrounding me like a huge hug.

The smell of rain, reminiscent of my life as a happy-go-lucky kid growing up in lush, green, cloud-dense Vancouver, BC.

All of these little fleeting moments keep me…well, they just keep me. Hopeful and alive.

Then there are the days when I wake up and the sheets don’t feel as soft as the night before and there is shrieking from the other room. I tell myself, “No matter what, it’s going to be a great day. You are going to stay calm and the kids will be amazing”.

There is a crash and my lotus flower votive, the one given to me by one of my dearest friends, shatters. I clean it up. Then someone hits another with a sword, you know – a sword – the kind I swore I would never, ever buy. Then the guilt washes over.

I think of the rain, my sheets, a delicious grilled cheese, my kids’ soft, sweet-smelling hair, their hand-drawn pictures, their art with sloppy hearts and almost-illegible letters spelling out, “MOM”.

We head outside. The fresh air will be so good! And we will run around and play soccer and jump on the trampoline (as I clench my pelvic floor). We will draw with chalk and play in the sandbox. It will be perfect, sunny and shiny and calm.

Then, the swords appear, and someone screams from the trampoline, they are fighting over the chalk and the sandbox has cat poop in it. Cat poop.

Then they somehow come together, a trio of beautiful energy, gorgeous little angels, and I snap their pic and I post it, because it was a gorgeous moment I always want to remember.

There are moments, maybe 20 minutes of sharing and laughter, like they are all on the same wave for just a moment. I see their hearts as we run barefoot in the grass, watching for turkey poop and broken sprinkler heads. We all fall together, laughing and wrestling until one pinches the other and everyone cries. Even me (on the inside).

We come inside with mud streaked feet and faces, hands in desperate need of washing due to the handling of many, many lizards. Everyone is everywhere. One needs a Lunchable, the other needs the potty and one needs his iPad, although it’s been shattered for several weeks.

I balance, I hustle, I wipe my feet with Clorox wipes because it’s all that’s in reach, and I find that the smell is actually comforting. Bleach, it’s reliable and takes away the yucky stuff. Yum. I like it. I can count on Clorox to always be there.

Balance. The hard and the easy, the dirty and the clean, the mad and the happy, the chaos and the calm…this is my life.