A three minute snapshot of my life as a mom of 5:

3:46pm- 14 minutes until it's time to leave to take Astrid to dance class.
I have just stepped into the shower for the first time today.
A crying Ezra, who usually enjoys showers, is sitting at my feet with a pitiful grimace on his face, squinting as the water drops down his forehead and into his eyes.
3:47pm
I am washing my hair.
Ezra is still wailing.
Asa has somehow jiggled the door handle enough to get into the bathroom and is whining about his giant lollipop, which has broken into several pieces, which have now become cemented together with sticky saliva. He wants me to break them apart. Now.
Julia is reminding me, with a pout, that I forgot to get her a glass of apple juice before I got into the shower, as I "promised" I would.
Astrid has followed Asa in, stepped in a puddle of water, and is fussing about her wet socks and opening the shower door telling me, in desperation, that she needs to hold me.
Ethan is banging on the door, yelling that he needs help with his schoolwork. All I can interpret is something about "accented syllables" and "is it to, two, or too?"
3:48pm
I am still standing in the shower, conditioning my hair with my right hand.
Ezra is cradled in my left arm, nursing.
Asa is sitting on the bathroom floor, loudly slurping the shower water off of his separated lollipop pieces (I couldn't break them apart with one hand but the hot water magically divided them in a second).
Julia is on the counter, gulping water from the faucet.
Astrid is sitting with the shower door open, holding onto my leg. She has removed her socks and they are lying, saturated, on the shower drain.
Ethan has agreed to put a hold on his work until I get out and (as I will discover later) is snacking on chips in the kitchen. About half of them are making it into his mouth, the other half are crumbs accumulating on the kitchen floor.

I briefly consider crying. But I smile instead.

A vision flashes through my mind. Me, 20 years from now. I'm showering alone in my quiet, clean house, sans sticky lollipops, wet socks, and schoolwork. I am smiling a nostalgic smile. This time, a few tears mingle with the shower water running down my cheeks.

Believe it or not, I think I'm gonna miss this.