It's a different kind of dirty

I was dressed in nice clothes to teach this morning. Somehow, by the end of my day, I look as dirty as my kids. I have chocolate on my shoulder from a chocolate smile that was first made by a hug. I have splatters on my shirt from helping a 9 year old chef mix cake batter. I have ink on my arm from my 11 year old reaching across from me to do his homework. I have a leaf in my hair from loading laundry into my dad's truck. I have dry wall powder in my hair from my husband's remodeling work, and smelly hands from picking up and cleaning soccer socks. I also have mascara smeared under my eyes from my busy day and a pony tail that is half undone. I look like a ragged doll instead of a working woman in New York. Well, that might be stretching it a bit, I'm only from a small town in West Michigan and I wear casual clothes from the clearance rack. I don't know how I can start out clean from a shower and end up filthy from being a mom of 5 boys and a husband and a male dog and a few neighbor kids. So, are you laughing now and saying, "Are you kidding me?"