💩 This Morning Smelled Like Progress

There are some stories I wish I never had to tell — and yet, they’re the ones that need to be told the most.

This morning was supposed to be about stuffies.

The Outsiders were perfectly placed. My coffee was hot. I had my narrator voice ready. I even had a hippo comeback arc planned. But instead… as I stepped onto the stairs, I could already smell that this morning had a different story in store.

By the time I made it downstairs, Jimmy’s diaper was off. He was folded in half, laser-focused on his iPad, proud as could be.
Covered in poop.
Not the “I played in it” kind.
The “Don’t worry, Mom, I handled it myself” kind.

And I knew — instantly — that this wasn’t mischief. This was effort.

He knew he’d gone. He knew he shouldn’t sit in it. He removed his own diaper and tried to carry on like everything was fine.

That’s progress.

Messy. Smelly. Really hard-on-my-calm progress.

---

Cleaning Up the Chaos

There was poop on his feet, his chest, his face (thanks to the squished-over iPad pose).
I stepped in it while trying to assess the situation.
Wipes weren’t going to cut it — this was a full wash-down kind of morning.

The carpet — the one I had just scrubbed yesterday — had to go back in the washer.
So did the clothes I used to clean him up.
I spot-cleaned the floor before it could become a trail up the stairs.
I got him into the shower, trying to scrub while he squirmed and laughed — because soap on his belly is ticklish, and soap on his feet is a game we usually love.

But it was hard to laugh today.

It was hard to stay calm and kind while I silently unraveled inside.

---

The Exhausting Side of Progress

This wasn’t the first time we’ve done this. And I know it won’t be the last.
I know this stage will pass — that every attempt Jimmy makes to manage his body is part of the learning.
But in the moment?
It doesn’t feel like progress. It feels like déjà vu. Exhaustion. Defeat.

It feels like “I can’t keep doing this,” even when I know I will.

Because I always do.

It’s the weight of caregiving that no one really prepares you for — the quiet, behind-the-scenes cleanups that come with no warning and no break.

It’s the whiplash of pride and panic at the same time.

And it’s the sheer mental load of trying to keep it together while your body is scrubbing, soothing, scanning, reacting.

---

This Is What We Don’t Talk About

We don’t talk about mornings like this because they’re not cute or photogenic.
We don’t post pictures of carpet scrubbing and poop-streaked cheeks.

We talk about milestones, but not the messy half-steps that get us there.

But this morning? It was progress.

It was Jimmy knowing something needed to be done.
It was him trying to take care of it — in the only way he knows how right now.
It was sensory chaos and independence and ticklish squeals tangled up in one moment.

And it was hard.
It was real.
And it deserves to be seen.

---

The Stuffie Saga Can Wait

The plushies were untouched, mercifully.
Commander Huggleworth remains poised for his dramatic return.
But for now, the saga is on pause — because today, real life showed up first.

Today reminded me why I write. Why I share.
Because someone out there is having a morning like mine —
And maybe they need to know they’re not alone in the mess.

💛 A Personal Note to Fellow Caregivers

If you’ve ever found yourself scrubbing floors before your first sip of coffee…
If you’ve cried in the shower while your child giggled in the next room…
If you’ve celebrated a messy milestone with equal parts pride and frustration…

You’re not alone.

I see you. I am you.

These moments — the ones we don’t photograph, don’t post, don’t really talk about — they’re still part of the story.
The real story.
The one where love and exhaustion exist in the same breath.
Where progress smells like bleach and hope gets tangled in a pile of laundry.

If today was hard…
If you’re tired and stretched thin and wondering how you’re going to do it all again tomorrow —
You’re doing better than you think.

And if no one’s told you lately, let me be the one:
You are doing an incredible job.

Keep going.
Even when it’s messy.
Especially when it’s messy.

You’ve got this.
And I’m so glad you’re here.

— Karen 💛