New Reality

Pumpkin was sitting happily in a swing - for the first time. Peanut was working on version 42 of mega-lego parking garage and miscellaneous cars. I was hand sewing an inside seam on a zipper bag.

Then Pumpkin started to cry. Cue Peanut, "Mama, I have to pee. I have to poop." Luckily, he can manage himself. I tell him to run over to the bathroom (which is about 10 feet away) while I pack up sewing project. Before that's done, Peanut reappears holding up his finger - which now has poop on it. I send him back to the bathroom and tell him not to touch anything and then follow him in to clean up. Some thoughtful mama has put wipes in the drawer with Peanut undies, so we use one of those to clean his hand after we sit him down on the pot. Pumpkin's still crying, so I go get her out of the swing and work on maneuvering her into the wrap to nurse. Before I can finish, Peanut reappears. He's done. I ask him to go back to wait for me. The phone rings. While we're trying to sort out what time "before six" actually means, Peanut comes back out of the bathroom holding up a finger - poop on it again. I hang up the phone. We clean another finger. I clean his behind, noting that there is poop on the seat of the blasted training potty (these things should not require aim) and the edge of his shirt. Wipe toilet. Shirt off.

Now I've got a naked toddler standing in the bathroom, wet wipes in the sink, a poopy shirt on the floor, an infant nursing precariously in a wrap, and a step that's too short for said toddler to reach the sink. Sigh. The shower curtain can push far enough away for us to use the bath tap to wash hands. We wash. We dry. We put on clean underwear, pajama pants, and Peanut runs to his room to get a shirt. Running, always running, never walking. We put on a clean shirt. Peanut done, he returns to garage (re)construction. Wipes go in the wash. Shirt goes in the wash. I breathe.

The next moment, it's quiet enough to write. I might even go empty that potty. Then what?