I’m 33.

My birthday today began with Thomas spitting up approximately 3 ounces of milk all over me.  Down my arm.  Down my shirt.  All over his cute, clean little outfit.  All over his cute, clean little face.  And then Huck tried to lick me to death.  Gross.

I have noticed since becoming a mom that I really don’t particularly care about being spit up on.  Or pooed on.  Or peed on.  Let me clarify — I would care if it was anyone other than my son.  (Don’t want some crazy blog reader to pee on me just to prove a point.  You know who you are.)

Three days ago, Thomas tried to prove a point.  He must’ve known that I was getting complacent with his emissions and decided to see how much I could take.

Kevin was going to take Thomas with him to his parent’s house for a couple hours for a visit.  Tom had already eaten and was in a fairly good mood so I decided to change him one last time before they got in the car.

Oh.  Boy.

First, he had a slightly dirty diaper.  While changing said diaper — he started pooing some more.  All over the outfit I had changed him into.

I yelled “Noooo!” while Kevin “helped” by laughing his head off.

So I take off Tom’s outfit, clean him up, begin to put him in another outfit when he starts peeing.  It hits the wall.  And his arm.  And me.

I then clean his arm and sort of wipe off the wall and then start to put a clean diaper on him when…

More poo.  Everywhere.  And then just when you think he’s done…even more poo!  I mean — I don’t have his diaper all the way on.  It’s not taped!  I wasn’t ready!  So here I am, trying to catch it all in this open diaper, all the while trying to avoid getting it on me.  I didn’t succeed.

So now I’m laughing because this is getting kind of out of control.  And while I’m laughing instead of cleaning him up, he seriously pees again!  And it hits his face!  (Better him than me.  Just sayin’.)

Anyway, in the process of trying to clean him up, poo gets on outfit #2 so I change his outfit again.  (Although this time, new mommy learned to put the diaper on ASAP and worry about outfits later.)

In conclusion, Tom is a pooing peeing machine.  I am dirty 23.5 hours out of the day.  And Kevin owes me.

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