I'm "Pooped" Out!

"Honey! Can you come in here?" My husband yelled from the bathroom last Sunday morning. (It always happens on Sunday, you know.) "What's going on?" I replied. "Elijah pooped in the tub!" He said.

"Hmmmm. I'm really busy," I said. "I don't think I can make it in there right now."

"He's picking it up and putting it out of the tub!" Dan said with a little more urgency in his voice.

"I definitely can't make it in there for that one," I gagged, as I quickly busied myself in some non-urgent activity. So glad he picked Sunday to do that instead a day Dan's at work! Whew, close one...

Don't get me wrong, I've done my share of "duties....."

Some days it seems never ending. If the mess is not coming out of them, they are creating it.

Elijah came down the hallway the other day running towards me with a clean diaper in his hand. He was exclaiming, "Wet, wet, wet!" as he ran to me swinging the diaper in the air. "Are you wet, Elijah?" I asked him sweetly. "Do you need your diaper changed?" He just kept repeating, "Wet, wet, wet!" As I reached out to the get new diaper from him, I realized that that was what was wet.

"How did this get wet?" I tentavely asked him. He's not quite three feet tall, so there's not that many places he can reach water. That was what scared me.

He didn't seem overly concerned with trying to tell me how it got wet, so I tried the "show momma" method. He liked that idea and headed back down the hall. Toward the bathroom... "Of course," I thought. "Of course, he got it wet in the bathroom." He happily showed me how he had dunked the diaper in the potty and than shook it all over and down the hall.

I wonder if they make locks for those things....

And then....

We were headed to my sister's house recently to celebrate a birthday. Unbeknownst to us, my sis and her husband were using this event to get both sides of the family together to announce that they were expecting their first child. What a special occasion in anyone's life, right?

When we showed up Elijah was a little fussy saying that his belly hurt. I was holding him, trying to comfort him and keep him calm. We were there barely five minutes when he decided to relieve his belly ache by throwing up all over Pam's kitchen, and me, and my brand new cowgirl boots. Yes, you heard me right, my cowgirl boots.

This is the part where vanity comes back to get you. I know it's strange for me to own cowgirl boots in the first place, but I saw them, I loved them, and asked Dan to get them for me for Christmas. I like them so much, I could almost become a cowgirl! (This is the part where my sisters are rolling with laughter at me.) Okay, so becoming a cowgirl is stretching it a bit, but I do love the boots.

So, there I stood. In my sister's kitchen with puke all over my new cowgirl boots (and her kitchen), seconds before the "big" announcement. The only congratulations I could offer as we quickly cleaned up the mess and left was, "Welcome to parenthood, this is what you have to look forward to!"

And I love every moment of it.