Peeling happy-face stickers off of your body becomes part of your shower routine.
You have that shower routine down to 3 minutes flat and that includes washing your hair and a shave of the essential areas. Add a minute for a thorough shave or exfoliation.
You always carry lollipops, bandaids and Advil in case of an emergency.
You can smell poop like a basset hound on a hunt.
You can change the grossest, messiest diaper and immediately (after washing hands!) devour a croissant.
You are a roller coaster of emotions. One minute, you feel the bliss of heaven when your toddler runs to give you a wet kiss. While the very next minute, you curse the gods because your other kid decided it was a great idea to hang from the curtains like Tarzan. (She and the rod landed on the floor.)
You buy diapers, cereal, milk, and wine in bulk.
Getting through dinner without a spilled cup or a thrown plate is impossible.
You embrace all establishments with a drive-thru. The bank, pharmacy, coffee shop, Whataburger. You dream of a drive-thru grocery store, post office, and liquor store.
Your hair is overgrown, your nails are too short, and your eyebrows are never camera-ready.
The soundtrack of your life is the music from Frozen. Sigh.
And you are out late, you have a mental clock that counts down the hours until the little gremlins' wakeup time. Then you may or may not panic and ditch your friends mid-drink.
You steer clear of all other kids on the rare occasion that you don't have your own with you. You seek out peace and quiet like a Tibetan monk.
And your unlucky fate places a crying infant next to you on the plane, you sympathize immediately and offer your breast. Just kidding - No Salma Hayeks here! But you do offer to hold the baby while poor mom cleans spit-up out of her hair. You've been there .
You adore every second of it. Even if you don't ADORE every second, ya know? You adore it because the clock is ticking and your babies are crawling, then walking, then sprinting to get away from you to become individuals and not the extentions of you that they are now. When they are little, they are literally extensions of your body. Right now as I type, one has her cute toes on my hip and the other is hanging off my neck while they watch "Peppa Pig."
See, someday, too soon, I will join the land of the normal again. That place where you don't jump for joy when you had a tantrum-free outing. That place where your personal space is respected. That place where you aren't cleaning poop off the floor.
I like where I am now... Crazytown, USA or Sweetness, USA (Depends on the minute.)
