I shut the shower off and am so kindly helped by a little boy who opens the door for me and shows me the lotion that apparently I didn’t push far enough away from the edge of the counter either. I hear the poor toilet still running from the countless flushes it endured.
My boy smiles. I smile. I love this moment.
I decide that even in the craziness, the shower is my sanctuary. So far, it is just me in there. The world outside the door continues, but for the longest five minutes of my life I am able to do some much needed maintenance on these legs, reduce wrinkles on my face, and see the brightest Cheerios smile that I have ever seen through the glass door of my sanctuary. I dry off and step back into reality-not that I ever really left.
A mother never does.
I stand in front of the mirror to examine my “wrinkle-free” face and find the face wash fails on its end of the bargain too. Oh well. “Buh!” I hear it. That poor diaper is about to give way. I hope for a moment that maybe it’s just gas. I reach down to feel my boy’s bottom… nope, there is definitely a lump and that thing is definitely packing heat. Off to the diaper station…
Off to what I like to call, just another day on my beloved, perfect, safe-haven of a military family funny farm.
