“When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they’re finished, I climb out.” ∼ Erma Bombeck ∼
She had been through war.
Her hair and clothes were dripping wet with sweat and water.
Her energy was zapped. She could barely hold her head up as she sat in the aftermath of it all.
They hadn’t made it easy on her as she wrestled and struggled with them. In fact, it was almost as if they had sensed her weariness and anxiety as she entered the battlefield. They could smell it…even as she valiantly faced them with a confidence she didn’t really feel.
They almost beat her. They clawed and kicked and thrashed and wailed. She did her best to keep them contained…to complete what she knew needed to be done.
She almost gave up several times. The fight was too unevenly matched. There were more of them than there were of her.
She called for aid…and her comrade in arms came in like a champion. He gave her strength and courage, and his presence renewed her faith that on this night, they could experience sweet victory in all its glory…sweet victory over all the evil filth of this world.
The irony of it all was that night after night, this conflict would continue to rage. It would be never-ending.
But she refused to dwell on that. Tonight, they had won. Tonight, they had persevered. Tonight, they could claim triumph.
For tonight, two babies, each one almost a year old, were scoured clean of the pee, poop, spit-up, dirt, milk, food, and grime that they had accumulated throughout that day.
The deed was done in spite of the shrieks and tears…
in spite of the acrobatic slips and tumbles over one another…
in spite of the fierce determinations to climb OUT of the bathtub in the middle of scrubbing…
in spite of the strong-willed attempts to stay IN the bathtub once the rinsing was over…
in spite of the efforts to pee on the parents who so bravely chose to apply Boudreaux’s Butt Paste…
in spite of the struggles against putting on the appalling pajamas…
and in spite of the audacity of a mom and dad who dared to brush down little wet cowlicks on little fuzzy heads.
As she sat and reflected over the exhausting events of the last hour, her eyes flitted to the two sleeping, sweet-smelling bundles of baby in the arms of their bath time rivals.
She smiled the smile of a warrior who has fought the good fight, who has finished the race, and who has kept the faith.
She smiled the smile of a mommy who knows just how worth it these two little people are.
And she smiled the smile of a woman who realizes that she’s got a full twenty-four hours before she has to be stinking baptized in the waters of the twin hose down again.