On this particular morning our goal was almost in sight. I had only to dress my daughter. I had managed to pick out an outfit for her and even get her shorts on. All I had left is the shirt...
I pick up the shirt and notice a hole.
I decide it's small enough that mending it will just take a moment.
I decide that if I ignore my bladder one minute longer I will have to start imitating one of my son's "potty-dances."
I head to the bathroom.
I find a majority of the contents of the bathroom cupboard emptied.
I remember that, while I was getting dressed, one of my boys opened the bathroom door (bad news with a one-year-old in the house).
I clean up the cupboard.
I notice a smell.
I find that someone left their used night pull-up open in the trash can.
I empty the trash.
I feel the potty-dance coming on.
I head to the bathroom.
I find wet toilet paper decorating the seat and floor, continued courtesy of my one-year-old.
I wipe it all up.
I disinfect everything.
The potty-dance has arrived.
I finally get a chance to rid myself of the potty-dance.
I start to mend the shirt.
I notice a smell.
I change my one-year-old's diaper.
I finish mending the shirt.
I chase down my one-year-old.
I finally put on her shirt.
One day, I tell myself, I'm going to miss my full mornings and all the memories that come with it. For every trying moment there's twenty wonderful moments that come with it.
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haha, wow. thst's all i can say!
ReplyDeleteAnd you tell me I should write a book?
ReplyDeleteYou're a very funny lady!