It was 4pm and I stood at the stove squeezing packages of sausage into the soup pot, anxious to get to the bathroom to do my make-up (for the first time all week.) We were going somewhere after Jake got home from work and I was looking forward to getting ready for the evening.

From the bathroom I heard my four year old yelling to me, “Mom, why do you have so many lipsticks?” at the same time the baby was yelling for more food. I grabbed another piece of cornbread from the pan and set it on his highchair tray as I made my way to the bathroom. Ava was already in there with her bright red lips, having applied all four of the lipsticks, apparently. So I wet some toilet paper and touched it up a bit, careful not to wipe any off her lips because “then it won’t look pretty anymore.”

After a quick powder application, I ran back to the stove, stirred the meat, turned on the fan to avoid another fire alarm going off (like yesterday) and gave another piece of cornbread to Hyrum (and wondered how he is able to eat so much.) Then I ran up the stairs to put on some jeans and back down to the kitchen to get the yelling baby out of the high chair. I cleaned him up, set him on the floor with a bottle, searched for some chicken broth, and stirred the meat again.

Then, back to the bathroom where I quickly brushed on some eyeshadow while Ava looked through my make-up bag and Hyrum played with a ball on the floor. I had just started on the eyeliner when I heard Ava say, “Oh no Mom look!” She held up her hand with a tan colored glob on it (I’ll spare you the details,) and I think I just stood there for a good five seconds with my mouth open before I asked her what was sitting on the top of her fingers. “Hyrum’s poop!” she said with the same incredulous tone. We stood there for another few seconds just looking at it before we both broke out in snickers of quiet laughter, in a sort of disbelief and disgust. Fortunately we were in the bathroom with sufficient toilet paper, soap, and water, because we certainly used a lot of it. Not sure why she stuck her hand into her brother’s diaper, but I’m pretty sure she won’t do it again.

I carried Hyrum up the stairs on his stomach in search of baby wipes while Ava followed me like a shadow, hanging onto my shirt because there could be monsters downstairs and she’s going through this phase where she’s terrified of being by herself. Hyrum started crying and throwing all his weight to turn over the moment I laid him down on the changing table because apparently diaper changes are pretty terrible. I don’t care for them much either.

A few minutes later we were back downstairs where I stirred the meat for the last time and finished my eye liner.​ Phew!

​Sure felt like an eventful twenty minutes. Fortunately, most twenty minutes aren’t all that eventful, but it’s not uncommon.

This mom life is such a thrill.​