Reality Check

Warning: this post contains major poop talk.  If that sort of thing grosses you out, I advise you to stop reading now. 

Just when I'm thinking I've got this mom of two thing under control, my girls are there to give me a reality check.  Last week while Izzy was playing in her playroom, I was sitting on the couch, giving Harper a bottle.  Izzy comes walking in the living room saying she needed to go potty.  By the disgusted look on her face and the way she was standing, I knew that she had already gone poop in her panties.  I told her to go to her bathroom.  As she started to walk, I noticed little poop balls trailing behind her.  Gag, I know.  But it gets worse.  I was following her to the restroom, and I stepped in one of them...all while still holding and feeding Harper.  As I carefully walked to the restroom balancing on the heel of my foot as to not further smear the poop, I couldn't help but laugh a little and think to myself, "This is my life."  And you know what?  I wouldn't trade it.  Poop balls and all.  To quote my friend Tracy, "There's nothing like a turd between your toes to remind you of your place in life."