Failing?

1 and 5, finally quieted down.

I lost it tonight, and told the kids they had two choices; one do their homework, or two go to bed.  My ultimatum might have had something to with the five kids and three dogs all dancing/screaming around me in the kitchen at the same time while I was trying to clean up a dinner, that for the fifth night in a row 3 has refused to eat, and that 4 was loudly proclaiming to be an attempt at child abuse.  As I gazed about at the cluttered counter tops and floor you could eat off of, not because of it's cleanliness, but because of the multitude of options it provided, I just lost it.
First on the chopping block was 3. Rationally, the sooner I can get him to bed the sooner he can wake up and I can try to get him to eat again. Three days out of four I can get him to eat breakfast. Anyway, he had told me a half hour before that he was going to bed; why was he still running around screaming? I hauled him up to bed (the floor in my room again tonight,) and firmly told him that he was not to leave his bed unless he was planning on doing his homework or eating his dinner. With that I stomped back down stairs to wrestle the next child, either into bed or to the table to do homework.
 As I entered the kitchen I found 2 unsuccessfully attempting to sooth the crying baby, (she wasn't able to get her afternoon nap today and was beyond tiered.) I asked him, somewhat nicer than before what his choice was. He said bed and I turned back upstairs to find 4. That's when I heard it, the muffled sobbing from the lump of blankets at the foot of my bed. 3 was crying. I hate it when he cries. It is the most pathetic, heartrending thing in the world. It doesn't help things that at almost eight he still is just barely over 50 pounds and an inch shorter than his five-year-old sister, but I am his parent and must remain firm.
"What is wrong," I ask to no reply? "3, what is wrong? Why are you crying?"
Through the sobs comes this guilt inducing reply, "You just hurt my heart to much tonight. I can't help it."
Starting to melt I reply, "How?"
"When you yelled at me and wouldn't even say prayers with me."
That was when I knew I had failed. We said his prayers and he went happily to bed. I was much kinder sending the other kids to bed, and it took much longer.
I thought about all the other awesome things they had done today. 2 who has never really cared for younger children or babies rocking a crying baby sister so I could finish up dinner. He never complains about it, and always talks so soothingly to her. Then there is 1, who failed his baby care class in school last year. He took the crying baby 3 times tonight, (remember she didn't nap all afternoon.) He was kind, loving and gentle each time. When they are all shouting around me it can be quiet overwhelming and I feel like I am failing.
Failing to keep things clean. Failing to keep things organized. Failing to make sure the homework is done before dinner. Failing to get everyone to and from their activities on time, (I was one minuet late getting 3 from gymnastics today and ten late getting him there) but as I remembered how 1 and 2 had cared for their baby sister today I had to chuckle. 1's teacher had thought he was a failure when it came to caring for a baby last year, but he is always so kind and gentle to our baby. Maybe we count failure to soon in life, or maybe we judge it without knowing where the heart lies.

5 decided that grabbing her toys with her hands was just and unnecessary extra step.

P.S. I vacuumed the kitchen and dinning room, so we'll have to look elsewhere for breakfast tomorrow.