A while ago, my good friend asked me if I would child-mind her 13 month old every 2nd Monday. 'Yes of course' said I. 'How hard can it be?'
For the love of Jehovah...
Projectile baby diarrhoeaa, clothes covered (his and mine)...yummy mummy my arse. Slummy mummy is more accurate!
He had a nap, woke up, I took off his nappy, cleaned him up turned to get a new nappy and wham, pee everywhere.
Cleaned him up again.
15 mins later, I heard a sound that made me think a thunder storm was imminent, but no, the wee man had farted. What a stench. Another nappy check revealed some sort of explosion had happened. I took him to the nappy change area but had left the wipes in the living room. PANIC. The nappy was already off but I had nothing to clean with.
Note to everyone, babies don't understand 'stay there, don't move!'
I sprinted to the living room for the wipes hoping against hope that he had stayed put....no chance.
In the 4 seconds I had been gone, he crawled round the spare room and got poo everywhere. How is that even possible?
Lunchtime. Holy Jesus, what a fecking mess. Spag Bol and yoghurt! All was going well until the 4th mouthful and he sneezed it all over me.
So here I am; a soon to be divorced 35 year old woman who runs her own business and networks with the rich and famous and can hold her own in almost every situation but is now frazzled at the edges and stinking of pish and poo, covered in spag bol, in a flat that is a tip, too scared to go and make coffee in case the wee one finds my supply of bathroom cleaning products and feasts on them in the 3 seconds I'm not watching him!
God knows how I will get us both organised to make my press meeting at the Film Festival without looking like some sort of stained scrubber!
The things you do for your mates...
(to be fair, he is a lovely wee fecker so it's not all bad)!
For the love of Jehovah...
Projectile baby diarrhoeaa, clothes covered (his and mine)...yummy mummy my arse. Slummy mummy is more accurate!
He had a nap, woke up, I took off his nappy, cleaned him up turned to get a new nappy and wham, pee everywhere.
Cleaned him up again.
15 mins later, I heard a sound that made me think a thunder storm was imminent, but no, the wee man had farted. What a stench. Another nappy check revealed some sort of explosion had happened. I took him to the nappy change area but had left the wipes in the living room. PANIC. The nappy was already off but I had nothing to clean with.
Note to everyone, babies don't understand 'stay there, don't move!'
I sprinted to the living room for the wipes hoping against hope that he had stayed put....no chance.
In the 4 seconds I had been gone, he crawled round the spare room and got poo everywhere. How is that even possible?
Lunchtime. Holy Jesus, what a fecking mess. Spag Bol and yoghurt! All was going well until the 4th mouthful and he sneezed it all over me.
So here I am; a soon to be divorced 35 year old woman who runs her own business and networks with the rich and famous and can hold her own in almost every situation but is now frazzled at the edges and stinking of pish and poo, covered in spag bol, in a flat that is a tip, too scared to go and make coffee in case the wee one finds my supply of bathroom cleaning products and feasts on them in the 3 seconds I'm not watching him!
God knows how I will get us both organised to make my press meeting at the Film Festival without looking like some sort of stained scrubber!
The things you do for your mates...
(to be fair, he is a lovely wee fecker so it's not all bad)!
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