When you're a mother....

You reach into your coat pocket, only to find it full of plastic beads.

You wake up at 2 am to help a child use the bathroom.

You step on Legos.  A lot.

You paint your house to sell it.  A week later the walls are filthy.

There's always somebody sitting in your chair.

Someone has usually tried your porridge.

Frequently, someone is in your bed.

You eat peanut butter, knowing that little hands have been inside the jar.

If you choose to go to the bathroom alone, it's at the risk of someone screaming at the door.

You've memorized Goodnight Moon.

You spend the day looking forward to alone time after kids go to bed, only to discover that you're too tired to enjoy it.

You can't clean the sliding glass doors enough.

Your nightstand is crammed full of scribbled pictures, given to you by big-eyed, loving little ones.

You hide the candy you intend to give to trick-or-treaters.

You either detest the Elf on the Shelf, or count your blessings that no one has gifted it to you.

When you buy your last pack of diapers, you both rejoice and cry.


This is a brief synopsis of the last 24 hours of my life.