DeLappenings: That Time When

So...

Tonight, after Chicklet was done with her dinner, she crawled into my lap for some snuggles, and proceeded to potty all over me.

Yup, that’s right, I said potty.

As in, tinkle.

Tee tee.

Pee (I loathe that word).

Urinate (Loathe that one a li’l bit more).

Like, so much potty that it was like a pouring bucket of (warm) liquid onto my lower half. And it just kept coming and coming.

Worse yet—I was sitting cross-legged, so I was wildly exposed for this unwelcome onslaught and it just pooled into my lap, soaked my pants, seeped through her clothing, my clothing, the chair pad (thank heavens I wasn’t sitting on our upholstered bench) and just sloshed onto the floor.

(Have I mentioned we’re pretty good on the Chicklet potty training front, but not great???).

Anywho.

This incident, it was unpleasant. Like, one of the more unpleasant I’ve experienced as a Mama, and, man, have I been through my share.

So I thought it would be fun to think of some of my best of moments for kicks and giggles on this Sunday night, m’kay?

M’kay.

That time when Chica was an infant and she had an explosive poo while I was in line at the grocery store and I held the seepage in one hand while I swiped my credit card with the other.

Or that time when Chica had an explosive diaper situation during the silence of a prayer in church.

Or that time when Chica ate a whole container of my cream eye shadow. And did not feel well.

Or that time when Chica painted her entire face when she was supposed to be finishing up a craft project downstairs while I let Chicklet and Little Man walk upstairs.

Or that time when Little Man went poo in the tub with all siblings present and we had to go fishing to get it out before evacuating and sanitizing the tub. Two nights in a row.

Or that time when Chica had night terrors for months straight when I was third-trimester pregnant with Little Man and Daddy or I had to sleep on the floor of her room or let her in our bed for weeks and weeks and weeks at a time until I finally broke down sobbing and pleaded with her to stop.

(Here she is making her unhelpful sleep chart when we were desperate enough to try anything.)

Or that time when Chicklet started climbing out of her crib and I was so desperate to stop it before it spiraled that we had an epic meltdown lasting hours that ended in her falling asleep standing up.

Or that time when all three kiddos fell ill with a stomach virus and a Chica threw up in the middle of Target (and I used her shirt to catch the vomit and then threw it away without a second thought.)

Or that time when I found some dried poo at the bottom of the playroom you basket—and I still don’t know who was responsible.

Or that time when all three kiddos were sick with a stomach virus and I woke up to find Little Man painting his sheet with his own vomit. Two mornings in a row.

Or that time when the same thing happened, but with poo.

(Are we sensing that most of these have to do with bodily functions???).

You know, these are just a few that I can recall, and I know for a fact that there are dozens more where these came from.

But you know what???

I love these crazy, wrinkle-causing, sleep-depriving, age-accelerating kiddos like nuts. And I’d do every day over again, just ‘cause I love ‘em.