Woke up to new noises today. Wyatt was in his crib babbling, using his tongue on the roof of his mouth and curling it into a little taco. He was so cute. Sort of. Did I mention it was 3:30am?? Did I also mention that he wouldn't go back to sleep until I did a song and dance in the living room, drink 2 cups of coffee, then sacked out in my arms. He's such a cuddle bug.
But even going back to bed at 5:30am isn't REALLY going back to bed.
Irony: I get back in bed at 5:31am...Tim's alarm goes off at 5:35am, and he says, "Are you getting up with me?"
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Normally, my laughing on the computer looks like this: Bwhahahahahahah!!! And you KNOW I'm actually laughing. So you can imagine what Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha. sounds like in real life coming out of my mouth. (It sounds like this: Yeah Right, Fuck No)
So after I get back to sleep around 6:15am, because let's face it, I've had to get up and draw the curtains a little bit more, because that sun is just peeking in RIGHT into my face. And then I hear someone go to the bathroom...drifting...drifting...asleeeep. aaaaahhhh.
7:15am: enter Ellie
"Mommy! It's time to wake UP!!!"
"Of course it is!!" I throw off the covers. I look to the crib, Wyatt is on his tummy, propped up on his hands, staring at me with the face that says: feeeed meeeee. (He's in a good mood, screw it) I get BACK in bed, pull the covers over my head and tell Ellie, "No it's not time to get up. Mommy is tired." 5 minutes later, all is quiet...a little too quiet. THAT's when I start to worry. You know when it's quiet, they are UP to something. Always. Never fails. Doesn't matter if it's 7am, 1pm, 10pm...too quiet=shit they are getting into. Well this morning...quite literally:
Ellie was in Shit.
I walk by the bathroom, give it a glance, keep walking, then halt. I have to process what my eyes just saw to my brain...and I'm a little slow this morning because I REALLY didn't want to get out of bed. My eyes are telling me that I saw Ellie naked, a fat steamer on the ground in a puddle of pee, dirty pajamas that I just stepped over but didn't realize, poo on the tub, toilet and cabinets... Uuuuuummmmmm. No brain is now telling me: no fucking way. Please no way.
I back up...and sure enough, brain was right. We have a poopscapade. It's level 3.0 (because we've now entered the 3rd year of birth) and it was very messy. I don't think she did it on purpose. I have a feeling she got her jammies stuck (she was wearing the footie ones with a long zipper) and she had to go really bad.
What I love about Ellie is that she tries to solve her own problems. Take this morning for example. She looks at the situation and says how can I fix this?? Pee on the floor, put a towel on it. Pee on the pajamas, take them off. Poo in the panties, take the poo out and put it in the toilet. THIS is where she needs help, but doesn't realize it. This little poopie was quite squishy, so instead of her regular "balls or nuggets" as she loves to call them, this little guy just fell threw her hands, er, poop on the floor, cabinets, hands, tub and her back (don't know HOW that happened).
Solution: lots of bleach, curse words, and now: coffee.
The End. Welcome to my day. Is it Friday yet??? (As IF that would prevent from this happening tomorrow) Until next time folks, have a super duper day, and remember...antibacterial soap. It's your kids' best friend.
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