Simple things. . .

It's the simple things, right?

Yeah, it is. And, I am not talking about sunsets and pitchers of ice cold lemonade.

No, I am talking about empty laundry hampers, clean toilets - void of little boy tinkle stains, actually being able to sit down for a meal, a solid night of sleep, uncluttered counters and floors, the ability to wear a shirt without peanut butter, pureed sweet potatoes, or spit up on it, the ability to slowly sip a hot cup of coffee on a Saturday morning, an uninterrupted adult phone conversation ~ w/o having to hide in the closet (you know you've done it, too! :-), time to actually use a blow dryer on my hair, and. . .

the ability to take a shower without fear.

Yesterday was absolutely beautiful, thus we played outside for hours! We went out in the morning and then again for several hours in the afternoon. All that to say, I had the great desire to take a quick shower before we went to church that evening. So, I corralled the boys and brought them in around 5 to feed them an early dinner and to get them ready to go. After I fed those sweet hungry little animals, I took them upstairs to play.

Erik and I have gotten quite comfortable letting the 3 older boys play upstairs alone with the baby gate up to keep Elijah from wandering down the steps. Our stairs are hardwood and the foyer floor is stained concrete. It has all the makings of an ER visit, thus the baby gate.

So, I put the baby gate in place, and I had a little talk with Joshua. I told him that Mommy wants to take a very quick shower, and that I will come up as soon as I get out and dressed.

With that done, I stepped over the baby gate, and went downstairs with Erik Daniel in my arms. I placed him in his crib in our room with a few toys. Then, I took the monitor that monitors Joshua and JCT's room into the master bath and turned it on. After that, I proceeded to take a quick shower all the while trying desperately to discern whether what I was hearing was laughter or loud talking or yelling or crying. I cut my quick shower short and was pleased to hear that it was laughter coming from the monitor ~ loud belly laughs with long sighs in between followed by another uproar of hysterical laughter. At first, I was relieved. . . but then I began to think. . .

Laughter isn't always a good thing when coming from little boys. . .

Then, I heard JCT say, "He's stepping in it! He's stepping in it!!!" And, that sealed it for me. This could not be a good thing. I grabbed my towel, wrapped it around me, and took off like a shot into the foyer and up the stairs to see what "he" was stepping in. I knew who "he" was ~ no doubt. Elijah has replaced JCT as "the one." I didn't even look as I passed our double front door windows to see if any of our neighbors were walking their dogs and happened to see me dash upstairs in a towel. As I reached the newel post, I yelled up, "JOSHUAAAAA, WHAT IS SO FUNNY????" I was met by 3 not laughing little boys at the baby gate. It didn't take me long to figure out what "it" was. . .

All I had to do was follow one of two things. . .

A.) the diaperless 2 year old with a bottom in need of wiping. . .

or

B.) the little brown footprints on the sisal carpet leading straight to a dirty diaper in the middle of the big boys room.

Enough said.

So, as I cleaned, resolved, wiped, and bathed all effected areas while constantly adjusting and readjusting my towel with my hair piled on top of my head and mascara running down my face, I smiled to myself. My, has my life changed. Or, should I say. . .

My, has my life changed me. . .

Gone are my diva days. . .

Now I clean poo poo footprints off carpet and tinkle stains off toilets, and, occasionally, vomit off big brother's hair after little brother woke up in the middle of the night and threw up on his head, and I don't even flinch.

But, you want to know the truth?

I'm glad.

I don't want to be a diva. I would much rather be the me that I am today than the me I was 6 years ago. They make me better. These crazy wild little Indian boys. . . They make me better.

And, you know what, I am thankful for tinkle stained toilets. Well, not so much for the tinkle stains themselves, but for what they represent. . .

Little boys.

Little boys who think that their sweet God in all His infinite wisdom blessed them with their very own toy hose!

It really is the simple things, you know?