There are things in life that only a mother gets to experience. Take for example, my short-lived nap yesterday.
First, I'll admit I shouldn't have been taking a nap on the couch because Mr. Bean wasn't home and String Bean was wide awake. Second, I'll admit, I shouldn't have poured a full cup of ginger ale and put it on the coffee table beside me before falling asleep.
Despite my mistakes, I should mention that it was not my intention to fall asleep with a glass full of ginger ale on the table. Early morning + late night + pregnancy = One tired mom.
I can't say for sure, but I think my nap lasted a total of 1 minute. I awake to String Bean standing over me, a sensation of cold wetness on my arm, and the screams of "Pill! Pill! Pill!" echoing in my ear. Seems I looked thirsty and String Bean was giving me a drink, but spilled it all over me, the couch, the floor and herself in the process.
What a lovely way to wake up from a nap!
I can give you an exact count of the number of times Mr. Bean has been spilled, on peed on, pooped on, puked on or otherwise led to demise by our toddler. Two. The one and only time String Bean flung her poo, he stepped in it. The one and only time she pooped in the bath tub, he was in there with her. (Thank goodness I do not have any poop stories such as these to share.)
Can I even begin to count the number of times these same maladies have hit me? Not even close. Too numerous to count. Too dreadful to remember.
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