Collateral Damage

Hey! I finished my Capstone project and now that I am d-u-n done with school forever and ever amen, Baby Girl has joined me in celebrating by completely annihilating our private property. ***

Tuesday she scampered away from me whilst I was trying change her diaper. Nothing new. Problem being her sweet little cheeks were completely poop-smeared and she proceeded to poop-stamp the bedspread (where the changing pad lies) like it was parchment paper and her butt was a Chinese chop.


Wednesday I shared with her the magic of Redi-Whip. She was hesitant at first, clenching her lips as I angled the Redi Torpedo of Whip toward her little maw. But then she came a waddling back, saying "Mom! Mom!" which in Baby Girl-ese really means "More!" Next thing I know I am squirting it into her mouth. She proceeds to spit it out like volanic lava, wipe it on her hands, and then smear it across the back of my shirt.


This morning she whizzed on aforementioned bedspread. I changed her into a swim diaper to go to the sprinkler park. Upon return, the swim dipe had evidently given her the worst rash in diaper wearing history, so I put her in a cloth diaper for her nap. Fifteen minutes later, I heard crying from her room. I went in to discover a naked girl, diaper pooped on to oblivion, and shards of poop smeared all over her crib, blanket, and bedsheet.

There is no rest for the weary. Not even weary grad student mamas that thought they were going to get a break.

*** Baby Girl? What's that white stuff in your hand you're about to smear on my shirt?

Running from the law.

Mug shot.