- The number of times I've washed any part of the bedding today. It's early yet, I'm sure that number will increase or I will save it until tomorrow.
- The number of outfits that Payton wears on any given day before I give up and leave him in just a diaper.
- The number of times Bill came home to a stripped bed last week and complained, "again?!" Like I enjoy the poo mess, taking off the sheet, washing it, drying it, and then making the bed back up. I'll give him some credit though, he did put the sheet on at least one, if not two of those occasions.
- The number of soiled clothing items currently on our bathroom sink. They've been rinsed out, soaped up, and are in a state of semi-dryness waiting to be tossed in to the laundry.
- The number of non-clothing items I can name that Payton has pooed on. Sheets, comforters, slings, spit up cloths, and multiple blankets.
- The minimum number of poos in a day. This does, however, beat the alternative- one great poo that just seems to keep going and going and going, just like the Energizer bunny.
- The minimum number of times I smile and laugh and complain to Payton, about his poo, in any given week. We have a discussion at least once a day in regards to his poo. He just smiles at me as if to say, "Ma! Everybody poos." I know, I know, but everybody doesn't poo all over everything. It's a good thing that he says it with a great deal of charm.
Now don't think that I'm complaining about this poo mess. I am not, by any means, thinking that I have it bad. I'm grateful for the sweet-smelling, yellow poo messes that I have to clean up daily. Seriously. I will take it over vomit any day. I get peed on, pooed on, or spit up on daily. Sometimes all three, multiple times. It's just the life of a mom and I count my 3 blessings of children every day. I'm just glad the poo mess ends eventually and pray that I don't grow old and repay the favor to them in my geriatric stage of life.