The day started out perfect the kind of rare, quiet morning you want to trap in a snow globe.

I woke up next to my two youngest after a girls’ sleepover because they’re still young enough to think mom snuggles are the best part of the night. We giggled, watched cartoons, and I actually styled my bangs like a woman who knows what she’s doing. For a moment, I felt put together borderline capable, even.

Then came the popcorn.

One minute it was supposed to be a quick snack while the girls watched Halloween movies. The next thing we knew my house smelled like an electrical fire in a movie theater. The kind of stench that clings to your soul and refuses to leave no matter how many windows you open.

Now there’s lemon water simmering like a witch’s brew, fans roaring, air purifiers humming like aircraft engines, and activated charcoal bags hanging in every corner like tiny goth houseplants. My coffee’s gone cold, the kids are still laughing, and I’m questioning every life choice that led me to think “I’ll just microwave a quick snack.”

Motherhood really is a ride  one moment you’re glowing in your new bangs, the next you’re fumigating the house like an exorcist. But hey, at least it smells faintly like cinnamon now. Progress.