A good editor

I had crafted a witty first post for my blog - but my six-year-old  (in his infinite wisdom) deleted it in favor of a non-sanctioned video game site called 'mini-clips.'
It's OK, I use too many commas and I need a good editor.
Saturday 8:00 AM - 10:30 AM:
I rush north with my friend and fellow vet student, Jen, in tow to take a "final" in bovine artificial insemination. Today we need three confirmed "hits" - locate the cervix via the rectum, pass an AI "gun" though said cervix and deposit semen into the uterus. No problem, except we are tardy - and the cowboy adminstering the test looks hard at me as I try to unobtrusivly enter the room and says "Well, you'll make a great vet - late already."
Ouch
Jen aces the exam and I do fine. Make friends with the smart people - their coat tails will take you far.
11:00 AM.....
I look over some notes in preparation for a dreaded "open book" small animal cardiology exam. Jen takes a nap and I decide to tackel said test while she is getting some beauty sleep.
Two hours later I am four questions in to a twenty-six question test. Bloody hell.
2:30 PM
13 questions down and 13 to go. Children arrive home from various play-dates, hungry, dirty, wanting to put on a show. Thank God, or Shiva, Buddha - who ever - for Annie's organic Mac 'n Cheese. I feel a little less like a loser mom than if it was the atomic orange kind.
4:30 PM
Cat hearts get big and tough and work themselves to death, leaving less room for blood to flow - a huge muscle in permanent flex.
Dog hearts stretch and lay down their strength in order to accommodate more than they should.
The drugs we give them sometimes help, and sometimes kill, and the margin is a knife edge that we walk in bare feet. The same drugs were once flowers - that graced my childhood home. Foxgloves dot the gardens of northern California, elegant bells in jewel colors. I played among them, unaware that they could revers the flow of sodium in my cells, could slow the beat of a heat, forcing rhythm amid chaos.
Or they could just kill you.
7:00 PM
Done and done - I have (reluctantly) learned.
My daughter dances past  in a jewel colored dress, roughly the same shade as the wine that I consume with disturbing regularity.
I yell and pull my hair over the deleted post I had crafted with such care - making a small person feel only smaller.
11:00 PM
Due to a guilty conscious for previous yelling I allow my son and his dog (a devoted two-year-old blue heeler named Boon;  as in baboon) to sleep next to me. I never let dogs sleep on the bed, except when I do. I put my hand on my sons chest and feel its rhythm; strong and regular and dear.
Tomorrow I will show him and his sister pictures of pretty flowers that nod innocently on tall stalks in the sun and remind them (although it is never children that need reminding of this) that there is magic in the world all around them.