I was having one of those great, really productive mornings. The baby woke up early, but he was happy, so I got up and put him in the backpack to wear while making breakfast and doing chores. I soaked rice in whey and water last night, so it was ready cook for breakfast. I made coffee, kissed my hubby goodbye and started chopping up veggies to put in the crockpot with soup bones and beans for a nice dinner tonight. The dishes are piled up, but I planned to wash those after breakfast while the boys did their science lesson at the kitchen table. Everything running smoothly, but suddenly I felt something warm running down my lower back. Ew. Then I thought something only a mother would consider remotely normal, “I hope it’s only pee.” But it wasn’t. My sweet innocent looking baby had poop-bombed me in a big way. I cleaned up the mess, which involved stripping down for a bath (for both of us). Now the baby backpack, which is my sole tool that makes it possible for me to get anything done is in the washing machine. So… no dishes this morning. More like, no chores. That’s okay! Lets go for a bike ride instead. I don’t like washing dishes anyway.
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