Sometimes parenting is awesome and easy and predictable and you’re well prepared for what comes your way and you feel like, “Bam bam bam! I’m SUPERMOM!” even though that’d be completely inappropriate to yell from the rooftops like you feel you’ve earned the right to because these instances really don’t come around all the time, it’s just this fantastic little moment where all good things come together and culminate in a moment of parenting glory.
And *sometimes* you change your son into three pairs of pajamas over the course of eight hours (note: all eight hours referred to are typically dedicated to sleep as opposed to developing underground, small-scale infant sleepwear fashion shows), and clean pee off of the wall, changing table, and child at 4:30am, all while your sweet, precious babe intermittently screams, practices his explosive noise sounds, and flails his pee-soaked hands all about your face as you try to calm him and keep him quiet so that *somebody* (anybody) in the neighborhood has the opportunity to sleep. Oh, and in an earlier glory-moment you changed his sheet and mattress cover and threw them in the wash, but haven’t popped them in the dryer yet, so it’s back into the pee-stinky crib for the poor baby.
(Deeeeeeeeep breath…”serenity now…”)
Make that *four* pairs of pajamas.