Scenes from a Weekend

Ever heard a heart splitting in two? It sounds eerily like this:

"Mama, when am I going to be a baby again so I can stay home with you?"

This came from my daughter as I was snuggling the kids during family nap time on Friday. There'd been a noon release from the elementary school, so we were all home together by 12:30pm. Probing a bit, I learned that her comment had more to do with fear of the biter in her class than with sadness borne of premature separation from her mother. Nonetheless, the damage had been done and the guilt had taken hold.

I think I earned freedom from at least a bit of that guilt after dealing calmly with what can only be described as an utter sh*tstorm. Within three minutes of each other this evening, our two kids had attacks of diarrhea that left not one but two bathroom floors, toilets, sets of clothing, and little bodies dreadfully soiled. As I scrubbed the younger one off in the tub, she looked up at me and said, "Mama? I love you."

"I love you, too, honey," I said back.

"But I don't love when poop gets all over the place," she responded.

"Me either," I concurred.