For those of you out there on the interwebz, when did you realize that you were no longer a rookie at this parenting thing? I can’t pin point the exact moment where it struck me that I was a mom down and dirty in the trenches with poop up to my elbows and sloppy spitty kisses but every once in awhile I have a moment that reminds me.

A few days ago, Levi dropped off the stinky motherload. Having already wrangled that twice in the previous 5 hours, I passed it off on The Hubster. Poor poor Hubster. I’m not exactly sure how it happened but in the end he and Levi BOTH needed a bath and I, in my typical sympathetic spouse and mother fashion, laughed heartily and pointed at them. Karma is a bastard though and nailed me just a few minutes later.

I sat down here at my computer, with Bo balancing in my lap. He was wiggling around as usual when he decided to grunt on out- ON MY LEG. It shot out of his diaper and ran down my leg, puddling on the floor. I called The Hubster for help and as I stood there waving Bo over my body to keep the poop from further hitting the floor, The Hubster was swabbing up what had already splatted. After a quick parent huddle (ok more like we were yelling at each other over what way would make the least mess while the girls danced around us chanting “Bo pooped Bo pooped!”) we decided the best move was for Bo and I to hit the showers. As I walked through the kitchen I could hear barely the phone ringing above the swirling chaos. The Hubster yells - DONT ANSWER IT! just as I use my one poop free finger to hit the TALK button. One would expect a poop covered chaos bogged mother to snarl, growl or yell “WHAT DO YOU FRICKIN WANT?” but no, I’m no rookie. I answered that phone pleasant as pie “Fidget residence how may I help you?”