S#*t Happens

Today I took E3's nine month photos. There's nothing spectacular about that statement, except, for the first time in his life I was late taking the pictures. Then he was grumpy and wouldn't cooperate to show off his newest skills. Ya know, like standing or whatever. I snapped a few pics, pulled off the stick-on monthly tie (WHY didn't I think of that!?) and wiggled him into an outfit.

A few hours later at the gym I was desperately needing to go to the bathroom. I was doing the pee-pee dance just like a potty training kid with a Big Gulp.  As I was about to pass E3 off to a friend, I felt the spread of warmth on my arm. He had shat himself. And shat himself in a big way. We follow baby-led weaning. A nine month old that mows through some berries, crackers, and an organic baby smoothie in the morning coupled with some nice long drinks off the boob really knows how to blow it out.

Before I messed my own self I hurriedly ran to the back office to change Sir Squirtsalot. You see that nice white onsie in those pictures? He (thankfully) had that on under his cords and button up as a layer of warmth shit protection. I remembered the Pinterest trick to rolling the once off the body as my friend asked how I would get it off of him. Mid process someone else said I should cut it off. Before he finished talking I was reaching for the shears.

That's right, ya'll. E3 shit himself so bad I had to use the Jaws of Life to free him.  Thankfully, I was able to make it to the bathroom without the same happening to me.

Later this afternoon my dear friend JMoo and her darling Kherbear came to play. I told 'Moo all about how close he was to walking on his own, but he was rather stubborn about it. After they left I realized I had missed my afternoon constitutional.

I have this gorgeous, big master bathroom that I can really enjoy a good poop in. Also, since I poop with an audience on the daily, it's got great space. This time, no exception. E3 came squealing in and ripped open one of the unsecured drawers. He loves to find goodies (pull out all my lady products) and toss them about. Right in the middle of me... well, pooping, I see E3 crawl halfway between the drawer to the toilet room in the master bath suite. He then took a football stance and popped himself up, unassisted. I've seen him do this once before.

Then, as I'm three feet away and ass-glued to the porcelain playground I watch my son take his first step.

Shit really does happen when you're a mom.