screaming

‘Our child dumped his piggy bank onto his bed. He’s having a Mardi Gras moment, hurling coins like beaded necklaces. ‘You can’t jump off the top bunk!,’ he tells our daughter.’

“I crack open a tired eyelid to see it’s not even 6 a.m. The rain beating down on our roof is drowned out by the billowing coming from our kids’ room. I lose my cool. It’s been under an hour of complete chaos. This is when my husband and I shift from relying on each other, to turning on each other.”

‘He asks: ‘How was your day today, what did you do?’ You think: Well, I was woken at 7 a.m. while I was in blissful deep sleep by a loud bloodcurdling scream because the baby poo exploded.’

“To say there was crap everywhere was an understatement. The toddler was also angry because he could hear commotion and he wasn’t involved, so he started screaming too. Finally, ready to leave, woohoo! Victory! Except, I’m still in pajamas and I’m pretty sure I have poo on my top…”

I was the perfect mom. Until I had kids.

“That’s when I saw you. A beautiful young woman who presumably doesn’t yet have children of her own. Another perfect (albeit, kidless) mom, just as I had been once upon a time. I recognized the look in your eyes.”

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