Two times in the past week I've left my wallet at home, only to discover it when trying to check out. I swear I never did this kind of thing before Henry was born. Ugh. The people at Michael's and Target just love me.
And yesterday, the Phillips family stunk. Like Homeless people. While changing a diaper at church, Henry peed all over himself and ALL OVER ME! Of course, ever the prepared Mommy, I had a change of clothes for Henry--but alas, none for me. As I went back into the service and sat next to Sloan, he noticed that Henry was no longer in seersucker overalls, but pajamas. "Have an accident, honey?" he said. "Yes. Your son peed all over me. I've got urine all over my shirt and pants." Sloan laughed and then cuddled Henry. I leaned over to him, "We're leaving. I'm sure God will understand that I'm not going to sit here with pee all over me." So we left. And of course, we still had to go by the old condo and pick up a few more things so I sat in my urine and fed Henry while Sloan lugged stuff down those three flight of stairs getting ever so sweaty. On the ride home, Henry spit up all over himself and of course, reeked of vomit. So by the time we got home, Sloan said, "We smell like homeless people. I'm nasty and sweaty, and I smell the best of us. We should buy some cigarettes just so the smell is complete."
There just is no hope for Henry when he has such awesome, responsible parents. Last night, before going to bed, I checked in on a sleeping Henry. He'd taken off his pajama pants (of course) and had grabbed some dirty laundry out of his hamper that sits next to his crib and was cuddled up with it. My poor boy. Pantless and cuddling dirty clothes. I'm growing ever more compassionate for Britney by the day.
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