I perched on the edge of the tub, gingerly dabbing droplets of blood from the sqwunched big toe of my screaming middle son. My daughter wailed in regret over exuberantly, thoughtlessly throwing open the door on her little brother's foot. Dinner simmered towards "burned," unattended on the abandoned stove. One neurotic dog ran laps around the house after escaping his crate, while the other hound whined from the sad remains of the now-warped cage. The toddler stood on my foot, attempting to soothe his older brother while shooting me crusty glares.
In that moment, I reconsidered all of my life's choices in an attempt to understand how I got to this place.
Before I reached any satisfactory explanations, the doorbell interrupted my reverie. With a shrug, I embraced the chaos. My friends, two kids and their dog entered our home.
This is my life.
It is beautiful.