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Mommy Fails

Today I had a work meeting and needed to leave Ethan for a few hours. It was the 2nd time I’ve been away from him for more than a few minutes for a work thing. I suppose it’s ‘good practice’ for the inevitable return to work, but it’s still a little hard to leave that face. Last night I busied myself laying out clothes and preparing as much as possible for the early morning handoff to Matt’s mom.  I had planned to leave the house around 7:15 – the earliest I’ve been anywhere since, oh, let’s say…August 10th!
I had set the alarm for 5:30 – just in case…but Ethan woke me up around 5:10 so I knew I’d have plenty of time to ready us both for the day. Good practice, I thought.
Ethan drank his bottle with his usual fervor, but towards the end, I could sense that he was ‘working’ on something. Of course we had to stop drinking – because he can’t concentrate on both at the same time. It’s a strange thing – just sitting, rocking your baby as he works on his number two – his big eyes looking up at me. What do you say? ‘You can do it, little buddy?’ ‘Way to go, son?!’ ‘Almost there?!’
Patiently I waited for him to finish his business and then we finished the bottle. Next up – clean up that number two.
Ethan lay on the changing table happily grunting and stretching his happy morning self (full belly, happy baby) as I worked on cleaning him up. I reached for one final wipe – just for good measure.  Ethan is steadily growing into a little butterball and has developed new nooks and crannies to clean! Just as I was wiping…’splat’. One last little push sent one last little splatter all over my hand. (I may have jumped a little in surprise.)
I laughed at my silly baby…and grabbed a clean diaper and more wipes to start over just in time to see him spit up all over his clean shirt. I grabbed the burb cloth to dab that, and went back to the poopy butt. Legs in the air, one final check…and then I heard a strange dripping sound. I glanced up to see a steady stream of pee arching up over his head and pouring down the side of his bookcase. BAH! (I may have jumped a lot in surprise.) I grabbed the spit-uppy burb cloth to wipe it up with one hand, as I wrangled the diaper with the other.
I had been warned. I knew better. I just hadn’t yet experienced it. BOYS! 
I laughed out loud at how badly things had gone, changed Ethan into some clean clothes, and went out to the kitchen to tell Daddy all about it.
Thankfully we had plenty of time and I was ready to go with no major issues of my OWN!

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