I picked out the cutest shirt for Sam to wear today. A little button-up short sleeved number that...you know what. Here is a picture I took to send to Grandma. It's worth the added 43 seconds to upload it.
I know it's nothing special special but I just think it's adorable on him and he looks like a little 25 year old man who has moved back home to live with his parents. My boomerang baby playing with his toilet. I just love that face.
Ok, so I picked out the shirt, and laid it (with hanger still attached) on Sam on the changing table. In an effort to occupy him and distract him from his favorite game "Diaper Change Hindering", I gave him the hanger to play with. Hindsight. Maybe not the best "toy" I could have given him. Defense argument: The hanger was in my hand. The basket of toys was two feet away at my feet. I mean, I'm doing the best I can here.
Also, it's not like the hanger is the worst thing he could have put in his mouth. I'll let you decide if that was the used band-aid, rectal thermometer, or handful of dirt.
I got half the snaps on his diaper undone and this is where I really win awards. The shirt was still on the hanger (naturally I couldn't be bothered to remove it) and it had fallen into the diaper changing area. So I shoved it back up onto his stomach and by doing that shoved the hanger. And where was the hanger? You know the answer. In his mouth. Obviously. So now, he's being impaled by a hanger, that's a little bit choking him and wedged in his cheek. Again why did this happen? Because I gave him that hanger to play with and then bumped it.
I'm calmly (lie) removing the hanger that he's pawing on and is raking along the side of his cheek.
Mother of the freaking year.
He is now in hysterics. I'm bouncing him, shhhhhing him, loving on him something fierce to try and calm him down and get back in his good graces. I sit in the rocking chair, grab his favorite friend (Mr. Bunnykinz) and we finally start quieting down.
I turned him to face me. I stood him up and (as per the parenting bylaws), began raspberry-ing his exposed belly. It's the law. He started laughing. Hard laughing. Belly hard. Choking on his saliva hard. I am back in good graces! I am nailing parenthood! I am mother - hear me comfort!
That's about the moment I realized there was a loaded gun pointed at me and the pee started flying. Of course his diaper is half undone because that's where I was at in the process before The Hanger Incident of 2014 so he's got a direct shot right over the top of it and onto me.
And he soaked me so good. This was a 13 slices of watermelon amount of pee. Shirt. Tank top. Leggings. Right down to my underpants. Oh and the turquoise pillow that sits on the rocking chair. He nailed it. I've gone 10 months without EVER being peed on by him (save for diaper blow outs) so I can kiss that streak goodbye. It's like the reverse Susan Lucci.
Here's what I can say about this picture that I took to commemorate the occasion and to send to Chuck as an FYI, this is what I've accomplished today type photo.
1. At least I was already dressed for the day so I don't have to post a photo to the blog of me in pajamas. Although, let's be honest. This is barely not pajamas. Large sweater that's occasionally slept in. Leggings that may or may not have been clean before the pee sealed that deal. This is an outfit in the loosest sense of the words.
2. I do have makeup on because we were headed to the store so I didn't have to add any in Photoshop. Yes I do that. And yeah, totally fine with it.
3. Thank god this happened today and not on Thursday because I will be 31 on Thursday and I'm pretty sure this picture would have come out like a "Say Cheese and Die" photo from that Goosebumps book I know you read in 4th grade. I have total faith that you get this reference.
Alright so, great morning here. Hurt my child. Got peed on by said child. Posted picture of self covered in urine on the blog. Wow. Nice little Tuesday going on in the Allison house.