Half-Clothed.

This week I have been working on potty training Asher. I have been peed on more times than I care to recount. I have taken deep breaths, gotten on my hands and knees, and cleaned up puddle after puddle of pee, over and over and over again. I have walked in it, yanked the baby out of it, and hopped over it.

I. hate. pee.

It is now Thursday, day six of this undertaking. As I stood with Maverick at the end of our driveway at 7:30 this morning waiting for the school bus to arrive, I suddenly looked down and realized that I am exactly what I never thought I would be. I was standing out there in broad daylight, wearing straight up pajamas with my bra hanging out, as my middle child ran around in nothing but a t-shirt and his underwear. When I used to have a job and wear high heels, I remember spotting moms standing on corners looking crazy and I totally judged them.

Shame on me.

I just didn’t know.

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I spend a lot of my day getting crawled on.

Being a mom is so, so hard. So to all the other mothers who stand at bus stops with half-clothed children, and suddenly look down and realize they are also half-clothed … I want to say hello, my name is Harmony. I’m joining your club.

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