Clare likes to “work”. What I actually mean is that she likes me to work. The only way to keep her happy in the morning fussy time is to do chores with her strapped to my chest with the Baby Bjorn.
Yeah, I know.
Anyway, the house has been cleaner than it has been since I got pregnant. I do the dishes every day, which is a huge change from when I did them about once a week. I even vacuumed. I know! “Shut up!” Right? I don’t understand it. My uterus wasn’t even this clean.
Well, today I was in the midst of my morning rounds. I was putting a load of laundry in the washer and I was scrubbing some fresh poop out of Clare’s pjs while the washer filled with fresh clean soapy water.
Clare had been upset most of the morning so when I heard slight and muffled protests rising from below my chin and against my chest, I thought nothing of it.
But Clare kept it up. “Eh…eh…eh…” she said.
So I eventually looked down to make sure she was ok.
To my surprise I found one of Andrew’s used socks perched atop my sweet baby’s newly clean head.
(Excuse me. I need a moment to laugh my head off.)
“Eh.” she said one last time as I moved the sock and saw her skewed expression staring up at me.
I keep thinking what she must have been trying to communicate. “Mom, I don’t mean to be a pain but there is a really smelly sock on my head. I really appreciate you doing chores but I didn’t want you to put the dirty laundry ON me. Could you please take it off. I don’t have the motor skills to take it off myself.”
Poor Sock Head.
In other parts of my world: I think a cup of hot tea in the morning is the only way to start the day…that is if I can’t get a gallon on coffee.