Courage does not always roar

So today...

I stumbled out of bed with a headache to help my whining child get a sippy of milk.
My knee (which I mysteriously injured WALKING DOWN THE HALL last week) is still killing me.
I yelled at my son at least 3 or 4 times.  I'm talking, the-neighbors-might-have-heard-me kind of yell.
He consequently spent a good portion of the day in time out...like a dozen times...in timeout.
I looked at our bank account and got depressed
My lunch was whatever I could throw together in my state of food panic.  It wasn't pretty.
The kiddo refused to take a nap.  And then behaved as you would imagine for the rest of the afternoon.
My hair was in a ponytail.  Again.
I told my kid no when he asked repeatedly (and sweetly) if I would play with him.
I'm in the middle of another setback in my quest to provide a sibling for said child.
I seriously just wanted to crawl back in bed and cry.

Here's what I'm telling myself as I go to bed tonight:

"Courage does not always roar.  Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"

-Mary Anne Radmacher