Difficulties

There are four of them.  I am outnumbered and some times everything gets completely out of control. Like this morning when every single kid was crying.  It wasn't as though I were sitting on the couch ignoring them (which I do), I was tending to each of them a little at a time, and it wasn't working.  Davis wanted to be held, Layla wanted to be held, I think Brooks probably just wanted to be held too, Waylon wanted me to be getting his socks or his belt or whatever little thing he thought of that put a total stop to his morning routine.  I was giving quick snarky responses ("It's not all about you Brooks") to each of their requests and grinding my teeth the entire morning.
And to make matters worse, I discovered no silver lining to lighten the mood of this post.  I did not miraculously, serenely find a way to appease every kid, and I wasn't patiently amorously able to summon a better attitude for them.  So Waylon went off to school noticeably deflated (because his socks didn't match), Brooks hit his sister until she screamed so loud I'm sure the neighbors woke up to their Layla alarm clock once again, and poor baby Davis cried himself to sleep in his car seat while waiting for me to get him loaded into the car.
From this 'place' we went to playgroup (which I genuinely love and am always grateful for) and everyone's kids went off and played, except mine. Mine sat on my lap and begged for food, and whined and threw a fit or two.  Half way through we left.  Layla started a fit and I just wasn't feeling it anyway.  Even socializing proved difficult for me today.  So I loaded her up before it got really out of control and we went and picked Waylon up from school early- because I didn't want to go home and unload them only to load them back up in 20 minutes for pick up time.  So it isn't yet noon, and I have already completely failed this day.  This is when I need to bust out some Insanity workout dvds, or get on the treadmill and run my butt off.  I know that that is the answer to this day, I just don't know if I'll actually make it happen.
I don't feel overwhelmingly terrible or like I failed my children or much of that melodramatic parenting guilt.  I just feel tired.  And I praypraypray to find a way to turn it around today.

Update:  My sister came over and walked with me, each pushing a stroller, one carrying a baby in a pack, and even though it was frigid and windy we walked, and I feel better for it.