Seriously?

Jessica can now circumvent all our current baby corralling measures which means by the time I got to her, she'd already put a few teeth marks into her Daddy's xbox controller. (I don't fancy telling him... does someone else want to tell him for me?)

A few minutes later I decide it's time for an early lunch. The cat is twirling around my feet and I manage to drop a plate of buffalo chicken perilously close to her head. It shatters of course, leaving me with a lovely mixture of shredded buffalo chicken and porcelain to clean.

After I finally get lunch sorted I set it on the sofa (first mistake.) I head back to the kitchen to get a drink (second mistake.) Jessica has my fork and is scooping buffalo chicken into her mouth. Her first reaction is one of smug pride, then the hot sauce hits. Not so happy now. I quickly pour her a cup of milk and all is better. She must have a very bad short term memory though because she tries again a few minutes later. I set her milk up on the end table. Somehow I manage to knock the milk over with my new plate. Argh. Milk on the carpet. Clean that up. Turn around twice and I've knocked my plate over again. Buffalo chicken down! (on the carpet this time for good measure) I clean that up. Finish lunch, remove dishes. Turn around to find my baby about to put the carpet cleaner bottle spout into her mouth! *slow motion NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*  I save the baby. Replace carpet cleaner bottle with diluted apple juice. She seems happy.                              

I don't feel comfortable in my skin today and I keep meeting with painfully physical reminders. Can I just go back to bed please?                

It's a good thing I love you Babybear!

because I don't know that many people who'd take kindly to being pooped on and then less than 5 minutes later being peed on. (There's been a lot of laundry today!) Diapers can contain a lot, but when a toddling 11 month old plomps down on her booty with enough force to bother the downstairs neighbors, well, even the best diaper is going to struggle with that one.

Mistake #1. I picked her up. (I wanted to get a mat under her) Poop down my arm. Delightful.

Mistake #2. I didn't immediately re-diaper her. I let her walk away while I washed the poop off myself. She went and bumped her head on the coffee table. I picked her up. What did she do? She peed on me. Thanks Babybear.

Such is the life of a mother. No matter how many times you poop on me or decide that I need peed on, I will always love you. Of course if you decide I need peed on when you're 15 we're going to have some serious words.