Well, folks, let me tell you about the rollercoaster of a morning I had today. Despite not feeling my absolute best, I woke up with grand plans to conquer the day. So there I was, getting dressed and ready to take on the world when, out of the blue, the baby monitor goes off. It’s like a tiny alarm clock for chaos, but it’s my daughter going, “Mama! Mama!” Then I hear her quietly whisper, “Oh no, mama, oh no.” That’s when you know stuff’s about to get real.

I rush into the kids’ room, and what do I find? My son, completely naked, and there’s a diaper just chilling in the middle of the floor. My daughter’s peering over her crib like she’s at a crime scene, judging his life choices. And there it is, poop everywhere! On his butt, hands, mouth, feet; I’m telling you, this kid turned his crib into a poop canvas. And, of course, he must’ve gone on a little poop parade because it’s on everything; sheets, covers, pillows, and even the stuffed animals became collateral damage.

In the blink of an eye, my day went from “I got this” to “Lord, give me strength.” I grabbed my son like a hazmat professional and made a beeline for the bathroom. I asked my daughter to play doorman, and she eagerly swung the door open.

Post-bath, I’m starting to regain my composure. I check the temperature, and it’s a chilly 45 degrees outside. I figure, no big deal, I’ll dress the kids warmly. But then I remember I haven’t bought them proper fall/winter shoes yet, so they’re rocking socks and Crocs – fashion trendsetters. And to top it all off, I realize Avery doesn’t have a coat yet. I’ve been procrastinating, waiting for this Mom-to-Mom sale this weekend, like it’s the Black Friday of toddler clothes.

I do my best to bundle them up and send them off to daycare. Then, when I get back home, it’s Operation Crib Cleanup. I’m tearing that thing apart, washing everything, and, of course, the stuffed animals decide they need a spa day too – hand wash only because they’re high-maintenance like that. I struggle to figure out where to let them dry out since it’s colder than the North Pole outside, but I decide to hang them on the retractable clothesline anyway.

I won’t be dressing my son in a two-piece jammie set anytime soon. So there you have it, Mom’s daily dose of madness.