In general, this transition to "three" has been fairly smooth. I might even go so far as to say it's been great, at least compared to my difficulties in transitioning from one to two children. [In truth, perhaps it's been miserable compared to some others' transitions.]

At any rate, we've done okay. I really haven't cried at all. Not even when a little boy is running through the house, naked from the waist down, twirling his pants around and around his head until he sends them flying through the air. Not even when I hear pages of a book being torn by an eighteen-month-old and find that, not only are pages of several books being torn, but she has also managed to destroy a favorite video tape. Not even when I discover the tell-tale white spots on the tongue and gums of my baby--yet again. Not even when there is peanut butter smeared on kitchen walls, and the two youngest have leaked through their diapers for the second time, and bathwater is landing on every surface in the bathroom and soaking me, and dishes from the past four meals are piled in the sink, and there is so much laundry waiting to be done nobody has clean underwear, and an entire day is lived to the tune of at least one wailing offspring.

But this evening, we came close to spoiling our "okay" record. Close--but not quite.

In reality, not one of the things I have to endure are truly hard. Sometimes when they all pile up, they seem hard. And sometimes the fact that they come in an unending stream that has no pause or break seems hard. But when I look at the challenges I face in light of what others before me and around me have dealt with, I know He has been gracious to me. Abundantly gracious.

And because He's gracious, He gives grace to people like me... people who often struggle with little things.

Like transitioning to "three."