Someday, I won't have to wonder if there is vomit in my hair or on my shirt when I go to the grocery store.
Someday, I will take a shower without seeing tiny hands and noses pressed up against the glass.
Someday, I will be able to use the bathroom without hearing, "Mommy! Look! Look, Mommy!"
Someday, I will be able to take my family in public without worrying about my son running amok and yelling "Boobs!" as loud as his little lungs will let him.
Someday, my daughter won't cry when she is hungry, but will use words instead.
Someday, I will perform my last diaper change and pack the fluff away in favor of colorful underwear.
Someday, my children will decide they no longer need me to cuddle them to sleep in my bed in order to take a nap.
Someday, it will take less than two hours and three clothing changes to leave the house.
Someday, I won't hear "Watch Elmo? Watch Elmo? Mario Cart?" when we go in the basement.
Someday, my underclothes won't need snaps at the shoulders and my freezer will not be in danger of a milk avalanche.
Someday, the dining room floor won't be sticky.
Someday, I will no longer need to step over baby gates to navigate the house.
Someday, little blue eyes will no longer be excited when I raise my shirt.
Someday, I won't be struggling to pull a shirt over anyone's head in the middle of a tantrum.
Someday, I won't be giving anyone else a bath.
Someday, my children will no longer want me to read to them before bed.
And on that day I will miss all of it.
And on that day I'll know it all went by too fast.
It's hard sometimes to remember this when I'm struggling.
I have to take a deep breath, close my eyes, and remember they won't be little for long.
The days are too slow, but the years are too fast.