Balancing prayer and the vocation of motherhood

I strive to start my day with 10 minutes of prayer time. Some days I am able to manage this and it is a wonderful way to start the day. Other days, life seems to intervene. Take yesterday for example:
I get the kids settled with breakfast and sit down with my prayer book. I make the sign of the cross.
“Mama, can I have some oatmeal?” my daughter asks. Never mind that she has already eaten a bowl of cereal, and apple, a bagel, and three marshmallows. This child eats like a lumberjack. I debate telling her to wait but then I consider that she is actually requesting to voluntarily eat some healthy food and perhaps the oatmeal will keep her occupied for the next 10 minutes. So I make the oatmeal, help her put the perfect quantities of sugar and butter (in the right spots of course) and sit back down to my prayer- where was I? Oh yes, “God come to my assistance”.
“Mama, I want to make a chalice, do we have any clay? It needs to be the kind that dries, not the kind that doesn’t dry or that foamy kind. I want to make a chalice, and then maybe a paten. Can you help me, I don’t know how to make the cup part. What are real chalices made of? Then I want to paint it, do we have any gold paint? Isn’t this a good idea I came up? I need help NOW!” This time it is my 6-year-old who is always cooking up ideas like this and cannot be sidetracked. I consider putting him off, but then decide to just get him the clay and hopefully he will be occupied with it and not picking on his siblings and I can finish my prayer. So I get him settled with the clay and go back to my prayer- where was I? Oh yes, “Lord make haste to help me.”
“Ball.” This is my 1-year-old, rubber basketball in hand. He wants to play catch. I read aloud to him a line from my prayer book, perhaps he’ll pray with me! I entertain a fleeting image of all my children gathered at my feet praying the Liturgy of the Hours together.
“Ball.” He repeats the request, this time his chubby toddler face is twisted into a look of indignation coupled with despair. I recall the hours spent on the floor playing Thomas the Tank Engine with my first born, and how this child (my fourth) barely gets five minutes of my attention. I sit on the floor and play ball. After a few minutes he is satisfied and toddles off to wreck his toddler havoc on other regions of the house. I go back to my prayer.
“Mama, I have a question. Since today is First Friday, can I have off of school?” This time it’s the 8-year-old. I assure him that while his devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is an inspiration, we should probably still do his schoolwork today. He insists that he wants to do it immediately. I don’t want to lose the moment where the child actually wants to do his lessons, so off we go to do school. Then of course I teach the 6-year-old’s Kindergarten lesson and my daughter’s “I want to do school too!” preschool work. I see my prayer book lying open on the table and decide to leave the schoolroom mess till after I finish my morning prayer. I sit down to my book. A fight erupts in the next room. A debate about whether the gaps in the baby’s mouth are the result of him losing teeth or teeth not having grown in yet has escalated to the level of physical violence. I intervene. By now it’s lunchtime. My prayer book sits open on the table, silently mocking me. Oh well, there is always tomorrow.