You know that moment when….? Yeah, me too.

You know those days when you’re supposed to take the kids to the zoo and the baby wakes up at 4:30 in the morning ready to rock for the day and you know if you don’t consume at least an elephant’s weight in coffee you’ll never make it?

Yeah, me too.

You know those days when you actually get the baby down for a nap and actually get the 4 year old to sit in front of the TV so you can actually take a shower so your friends don’t wonder if maybe perhaps you’re going full-on hippie with the body odor and six-inch-long armpit hair?

Yeah, me too.

You know those days when you get out of the shower to the tune of “Mommy, I think the baby pooped! She’s stinky!” and you walk into the kids’ room wrapped up in your favorite robe and the smell not only undoes all the good the shower did, but actually physically knocks you over with its power?

Yeah, me too.

You know that moment when you reach the crib and you get the feeling that the baby’s favorite stuffed lamb (who looks oh-so-innocent) double-dog dared the baby to smear poop over every square inch of the crib, bedding, and surrounding walls? And you got the feeling that your baby responded with, “You’ll never call me chicken, bastardo!”? You know that moment? Do you?

Yeah, me too.

And then there’s that moment when you’re trying to change the baby (who’s covered in excrement), and the baby has discovered that not only is rolling fun, but rolling in poo is SO MUCH FUN! and you’re trying to keep the little log-rolling shit still so you can wipe the crap off the back of her neck. That’s a fun moment.

Right?

And don’t forget the moment after you’ve cleaned up the baby, cleaned up the bedding, sprayed so much Febreeze in the room that you’re pretty sure the ozone layer is going to peel back directly over your house (kindof like that scene in The Avenger’s when the aliens attack) but at least the house and your darling child no longer smell like crap and you realize…wait…you still smell it. Where is it coming from? Where?? Where??? Oh. Great. Effing great. 

The poo is in my hair.

You know that moment? Yeah, me too.

So you strip down both kids and put them in the shower with you while you try to scrub your hair all the while knowing there’s no way you’ll make it to the zoo in time. Thankfully, your friend texts you and tells you she’s running late.

Thank heavens.

Now the kids are clean. You’re clean (again). The house doesn’t reek. The lunches are packed. The diaper bag is packed. The dog has been let out.

Shit.

You know that moment when you realize you let the dog out before your FIRST shower, and haven’t seen her since?

Yeah, me too.

So you set the baby on your hip and grab your four-year-old’s hand and trudge through the neighborhood calling for your dog, and find her in a yard three houses down eating something from their yard that you can only assume is similar to the substance you just spent the last thirty minutes cleaning up. Oh, and wait, look down. Yep. You stepped in something, too.

You know that moment, right?

So, back to the house, canine in tow, drop your shoes in the garage – you’ll clean them later – strap the kids into their car-seats, load up the lunches and diaper bag and purse and run back into the house because you’ve forgotten your phone.

You know the moment where you have absolutely no idea where your phone is even though you used it like, fourteen seconds ago?

Yeah, me too.

So you’re hunting the phone, and during the hunt you realize that you left the Scentsy warmer on in the bathroom. Only the Scentsy warmer in the bathroom is on a high shelf and for whatever cockamamie reason you’ve decided that it’s  IMPERATIVE that you complete the task one-handed.

Idiot.

So you struggle with the toggle-switch from hell and finally manage to get the thing shut off, but not before giving yourself (and the shelf, and the floor below) and unintentional paraffin wax treatment.

You know that moment? Yeah, me too.

So after peeling the wax off your hand and realizing that your ring is now going to have to be professionally cleaned, you bolt back down to the garage to find your precious angels waiting with the patience of saints. (If you don’t hear the sarcasm here, I’m going to stick a knife in your head.)

With a sigh of relief you realize your phone is in your pocket, and try not to dwell on the fact that it was there all along and that you’re probably losing your short-term memory, and climb into the car and start the car and pull out of the driveway and close the garage door and drive down the street and pull onto the freeway and three miles down the road realize…

…you’re not wearing any shoes.

M@!#$R F@$K!

You know that moment? Do you? Do you?

So you drive BACK to the house, find non-shit-covered shoes, climb back into the car, and head directly to the nearest fast-food establishment for the largest soda they have. Because even though you don’t drink soda, you need something stronger than water or tea, and it’s a better idea than hitting the nearest liquor store, no matter how appealing a gallon of wine is in that moment…

…but then there’s that moment on the way home from the zoo when the kids are sound asleep and there’s a smile on your face because even though you’re going home to a garage that reeks from crap-covered shoes, and a mess of wax on the floor, and a dog who’s breath smells like death and all the stuff that comes with parenthood…

…there’s still a smile on your face. ‘Cause life is good.

Life is hard, sure.

But it’s still good.

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