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Poop in the sink

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Of the hotel room. Is why the kids went to bed without a story tonight.

Can you say maid service, please?

I should have known.

Today was going really well. And this was really minor. Really.

Pink actually pooped in her pants, then put it all in the sink.

I found it when I took Simeon in there for a talk because crazy laugh was making it’s appearence.

Did I mention today went really well?

We walked the pier, played at the park, walked driftwood beach, ate the world’s greatest barbecue (seriously, my fav. and I don’t play when I’m talkin’ barbecue).  I held hands with my delicious husband, played with my really adorable kids. Clamored and climbed and ran. I read a few chapters of a book I’ve been dying to read for a while now. And it’s as good as I expected. I relaxed, I laughed, I absorbed every single drop of sunshine the day offered.

The shells were still a point of contention. And it didn’t get better when we found a fully loaded conch. But we traversed the beach okay. There were even some laughs. And a couple of times, I caught her playing in the sand. She may have even enjoyed it a little bit.

Oh, and there was a toe injury. But we managed. Once I pinned her leg down and pulled the loose flap of skin off. And doused it in antiseptic. And Simeon was so sweet with his hugs and nervous pacing during the “procedure”

But really, those were all minor. Even the poop in the sink.

Which is just kinda normal for me now.

Which is really weird when I think about the kind of parenting I’ve gotten used to. When we have really good days and I anticipate fall out and a little crazy laugh and some poop in the sink because something I’m thankful for, because we all know it could have been worse.

It’s kinda fun to sit back and see the good work God’s done in me. And really, I’m just so very grateful we got to enjoy the beach.

Amen.

PS: If poop in the sink or on your stuff, or you know, whatever crazy your kids bring you still sends you to the moon all rage-y like. It doesn’t all go away. And you’ll still get rage-y. Trust me, rage-y is a way of life sometimes. But,  it’ll get better. You’ll get better. Trust me. You can do hard things. And someday, you’ll wake up and be thankful for something really small like poop in the sink and you’ll remember we had this little chat. And you’ll thank me for encouraging you not to give. So don’t give up. You’ll be glad you didn’t. I know I am.

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About Monica

Christ following, husband loving, children hugging foster and adoptive mama.

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