It's transition time in our house. That means the kids refuse to practice the piano, refuse to take baths, and fall to the floor in despair at the extent of their homework.

I just spent two hours trying to convince Rose NOT to do her homework because she is sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed. She would do a little and then roll around in misery. Do a little more and flip that she hadn't gotten enough done.

I got two nice apologies this week:

Rose: I'm sorry I yelled at you when you first came home.

David (snuggling with me an hour after a monster melt down): I love you even when I don't want to do what you want me to.

David has been giving me lots of big hugs even though it took me three hours to recover from a fight we had. Rose let me pull her onto my lap and admire pictures of her as a baby. That was calming for both of us. She was a baby delight and the hardest work I've ever done. This is nothing compared to baby Rose.