No Bleach Required

So things have been tough. Very tough.

I just THOUGHT they were bad five-years-ago when I was worried about whether my then one-year-old had autism and whether the baby I was then carrying had a birth-defect that would prevent her from breathing at birth.

Like I said: I just thought those days were difficult.

The past 9 months -- the spouse leaving, the struggles of trying to parent two little kids, one of whom has autism, alone -- all of that has been much worse.

But my daughter said something to me yesterday that reminded me of just how far we have come, my two kiddos and I.

I was cleaning up a mess -- cinnamon that my son had spilled on the table that holds the TV. (You see, my son is really into spinning things these days. Oh, couldn't we have gotten through that when he was, I don't know, two- or three-years-old instead of six? It drives me crazy! He raids my spice rack so he can take the lids off the spice jars. He usually leaves the jars in the rack, but, yesterday, he took the cinnamon along with him. And, of course, he wound up spilling a good bit of it in front of the TV.)

I am cleaning up the cinnamon when my darling daughter walks by. She watches what I am doing and says:

Mama, is that poop or is it part of an ice cream sandwich?

Oh, sweet girl, thank you, thank you, for the laugh.

And for the reminder .....

That even though things aren't easy, even though my marriage crumbled, even though I struggle to be patient and to live each day in the day and not think too far ahead ....

I am so very, very glad that everybody's poop winds up in the pot.