There are lots of ways to celebrate being a mother. Many kids help their mom's celebrate by giving them a little something special.
A heart sharped rock.
A play dough Valentine creation.
A fingerprint flower card at Mother's Day.
On my desk, on my dresser, hanging in the kitchen. There are all fantastic gifts that I have near me each day.From my sweet, artistic daughter.
My son. My son has his own ways to make me feel special. So far, none of them have been art projects. (I confess I haven't done as many projects with him as I did with her at 17 months, but he has zero interest.)
This week he shared a smorgasbord of bodily fluids with me. In one morning. One morning.
It started with a soaking wet bed and a bath. Not fun, but routine enough.
Not even 10 minutes later when he was dry and dressed we headed downstairs for breakfast. I mixed up some orange juice water mix and he walked around sipping his "uice" while I started making eggs. Started.
Then I heard a spill. It sounded like a cup getting dumped out on the floor. Followed by "up-oh." I though for sure my clever child had figured out how to get the lid off his sippy cup. I looked for the cup. It was on the counter and still had juice in it. I checked the fridge. Nothing missing.
Then I looked again. There was juice on his shirt and shorts.
It wasn't a cup getting dumped out. It was his stomach. Dumping out the juice. On the highchair. On the floor. On the table.
Change clothes. More cleanup. Highchair outside and hose it off. Mopping. Make eggs. Make toast.
For some reason the kid still wanted to eat.
Fast forward another 10 minutes. Cue the bloody lip. Wipe with a tissue. Say a thank you prayer that the second shirt of day is navy so the blood doesn't show.
I don't even know where ti came from. Boys seem to attract them. He is 17 months and it was his fourth one. Fourth.
He had been out of bed for 45 minutes. Three bodily fluids and it wasn't even 8 a.m.
What a treat.