Mommy Mommy! Who's winning?

Today was babysitting the triplets with Mike, and it pretty much consumed my entire day. And the Jets game. That did too. But all in all, it was kids. It was kind of nice though, like back when you're little and decide to play house, and Mike's the dad and I'm the mom, and we sit down with the kids and watch TV and make sure they don't beat the shit out of each other while making pathetic attempts to explain football to them. It felt nice, and pure, and sweet, and innocent. It was lovely, really.
Sometimes I don't like the thought of having kids one day and bringing them into this shitty world, but sometimes like today, I feel like I can't wait to have kids one day and a nice family life of my own. But I'd make it nice for them. I'd give them a good childhood, with breakfast in the morning that involve glasses of orange juice and waffles, and a nice packed lunch for school. I would make sure they don't grow up playing loud music to drown out their parents' fighting, and they wouldn't have to have their back against the wall when they got in trouble. Their dad wouldn't sleep on the couch or never be home, and they wouldn't walk in on their mom crying by herself in a chair when she thinks no one can see. They wouldn't worry about the bills, or anything like that, but they wouldn't be spoiled. They'd have a nice childhood. But really, is there such a thing as a nice childhood?
I'm tired at this point, and school's tomorrow, so I'm off to lie down and watch a movie. Goodnight interwebs.