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What makes a bad day?

Our morning window for doing anything extends between 10 and noon, after Zion's morning nap but before Harvey's lunch and rest. During that window Zion needs a clean diaper at least 3 times and Harvey at least 2. That means a trip to Market Basket must include no less than 5 diaper changes, if we're lucky 2 of them by the car and only 3 of them in the store squatting next to a shopping cart.

This morning it was the library instead of the supermarket. Harvey leaked through his first pair of pants as soon as we arrived and needed a second diaper 30 minutes later, but I missed the moment for the third change and he leaked through his replacement pair of pants. I didn't have a second spare so I took him to the car to bring him home in a diaper. I put Zion in his seat and had Harvey lean against the door. I took off the wet shoes, the wet pants and slipped the diaper off between his legs, which is fine for a wet diaper, but the offending specimen was poopy. And now so was my hand. And the Moby. And the ground. And the side of the car.

The thing about having your hand completely immersed in shit is that the sensation isn't all that unpleasant... it's the smell and the knowledge of the germs that lift the hairs on your neck, but it's not like poop is caustic or even clammy. On its own it's surprisingly not unpleasant. Anyway...

The baby is screaming because he's sleepy and teething and Harvey is screaming that he doesn't want his socks to touch the concrete and I have the epiphany that this isn't just A BAD day, this is EVERY DAY. Every day is tantrums and diaper leaks and kneeling in the parking lot trying to locate the wet wipes. Every day is more hours putting children to bed than hours they actually sleep. Every day is carrot sticks and sandwiches and nursing a child who spits it back up in my face. Every day is 35 wet or poopy diapers that need to pass through my hands.

I could let it bother me or I could not let it bother me.

"This is the gift of God: that everyone may find satisfaction in her toil." (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13, paraphrased.)

Today I'm choosing to take this poopy day, this poopy week, this poopy life and turn it into something that looks more like satisfaction.

Oh, and for the folks coming over my house for dinner tonight, don't worry. I washed my hands at least five times before cooking. And the last time I used dawn dish detergent. A LOT of it.

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