Getting peed on, puked on, pulled on and pooped on is all in a day's work for me. And I love it. Okay, most of it. Maybe I should say that I'm used to it and it doesn't bother me anymore. With our little girl, I'd been pulled on and pooped on, but I entered an entirely different world when we had our son.
I have the sweetest, most handsome, snuggly boy in all the world.
He has substantially increased the amount of dirty laundry in our home. It took us a while to master the "new" way to change a diaper. Boys are very different than girls when it comes to changing. I thought before Wyatt was born, "Oh, no problem, diaper changing is the least of my concerns... I have an 18 month old". Little did I know...
Not only did he pee all over the place (which got significantly better after about a month, but has recently returned), but he was our puker. Reflux isn't even the word. He was a puker. If you saw us at home, you'd see that we had a washcloth instead of a burp cloth or bib, or a paper towel sometimes. Ah, the luxiuries of all things disposable. (I've said many times that if it doesn't go in my dishwasher or my washing machine, I don't want it.) Thankfully, this has gotten much better. Once he started to eat some solid foods, this signficantly improved.
All this to say, it just doesn't matter how much I'm peed on, puked on, pulled on or pooped on. It's all worth it. Every bit. Even when he won't nap or wakes up at 5:45 in the morning ready to go for the day, when he smiles at me, I'm reminded that the Lord allowed us to have our children to teach me more about Him and how He loves us, unconditionally, without reservation and without stipulations. If I can teach my children not only about Jesus, but to know Him, I've done my job as a mom.
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