Damn Cycle!

I'm very grumpy today. I think I got up on the wrong side of the bed. Of course, there is only one side to the bed as "my" side is against the wall. Perhaps that's the problem. One side of the bed. If I had two sides, then I'd have options. I like options. I need options. Must. Move. Bed.
I digress. Everyone is pissing me off. I've got a wicked look in my eye that says "Anything you say will cause me to kick you". Perhaps it's not a great idea to have 2 cups of espresso within 30 minutes of waking. And another on the way to school/work. In my defense, the espresso is good. I mean, trade-espresso-for-sex-good. In my brand-new, very fancy-shmancy, self doing coffee machine.
I feel like I'm running through a cycle that is never ending. You know, just life. Wake up, drink too much coffee, open Chicken's eyes enough to dress herself, more coffee, make lunch, check back pack, more coffee, drive to school, chit-chat a few minutes too long, race to work arriving 20 minutes late, make more coffee. Work silly monkey job, go to school, go back to silly monkey job for an hour, back to school. Home, school work (for both of us), cleaning, cooking, sports activities, continue my role as "Queen Yenta" with other non-Jewish friends. Wrestle, kiss and tickle child, threaten her with homemade cookies into the shower, bitch about and demand the toothpaste in the sink get cleaned NOW!, Chicken is in bed. I clean. I sleep. And hopefully, 5-6 hours later, I do it all over again.
See what I mean. It's just a-spinnin'. And I don't mean the records. I mean the wheels in my head.
What can I do to improve this, how can we make more money? Is she getting sick, I need to call the insurance company, must order more soccer pictures, must mail Kara's CD & Jillian's Nemo. Must call laid-up Aunt in Vermont. (If I were a cartoon, here's where the steam would come whistling out of my ears. WOOOOOOOOOOO)
This morning, in the midst of my grumpiness, I put her in the car and prepared to drive away. "I'm so lucky", I thought. This is the life I always wanted. The life I fought for and semi-maintain. Of course, the bitch inside pushed my (rare) grateful attitude aside but now that I reflect; I am lucky. Maybe not so much luck as blood, sweat and tears. Ok, mostly tears. But whatever.
When I was growing up, I dreamed of being a mom. It was all I ever wanted to be. I dreamed of June Cleaver, baking cookies, PTA meetings and cleaning toilets. I knew being a mom was hard and a lot of work and draining. I prayed for it anyway. And on mornings (days, weeks?) when I feel like there is nothing left of me, I thank God for answering prayers. For allowing me to give people the life I never had and fulfilling emptiness I grew up with.
It's everything I wished for and more.
Thank you.