loveletterstolivvy

Some may think this is an over-share, but I had to post it anyway.

Yesterday, after waking from a nap, you were a little distressed because your nose was stuffy.  When I picked you up out of your crib I saw the culprit, a pretty BIG boogie, right at the edge of your nostril.  Not to be gross but it would move in and out with every breath you took only making you more and more frustrated.  I managed to remove it but, because you were crying and squirming, I wasn’t quite sure where it went.  I looked at my hands, sleeves, tummy, than onto you, but it remained a mystery.  So later, a few hours later, I’m in the bathroom washing my hands after a diaper change and I see something on my forehead.  Well, low and behold, wouldn’t you know the boogie was stuck to my forehead all that time and I didn’t even feel it?  Ah the tribulations of being a mother.  There was nothing else to do but laugh at myself.  Although lately it seems like I’ve been laughing at myself way too often.  Livvy Livvy Livvy what am I going to do with you?  You crack me up.  I can’t even imagine what I did before you for laughs.

If that’s not gross enough, I have another funny story.  This happened months and months ago before the birth of this blog and I can’t believe I almost forgot about it until the boogie saga.  I was changing your stinky diaper, a rather messy diaper, if you know what I mean.  It was the kind where it conveniently burst out the sides of your diaper, ran up your back and almost into your hair, sort of an explosion if you will that had me breathing out of my mouth.  I must have used about a dozen or so baby wipes to clean you up but, apparently, not good enough.  When I was finished and picked you up from the changing pad the phone rang.  It must have been a longer phone conversation than I predicted because the bath I had intended to give you was put on hold.  After the phone distraction I had forgotten about the bath entirely as I moved on to other chores around the house with you attached to my hip.  It was strange but, where ever I went, the smell of poop seemed to follow.  I don’t know how it happened but you must have, at some point, touched the poop and were toting it around with us.  After giving us both the onceover, I finally found a bit of smeared poop on the back of your hand and under your fingernails.  I thought to myself How in God’s name?  I was dumbfounded.  When changing your diapers I was always VERY thorough and this was no exception.  I rolled my eyes, at myself, and wiped your hands clean with a wet soapy paper towel.  No distractions this time, you were given a bath immediately. 

Okay enough of these gross, somewhat disturbing, topics.  I hope to have a more pleasant post for you tomorrow although, undoubtedly, less funny.