I am Mother. Hear me Roar.

A word of caution: If you don't have kids yet, and still think you might want to, you might ought to skip this post. At the very least, brace yourself for a little bit of a gross out.

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Last night, I slept in poop. (See? I told you.)

No, not mine. (Seriously. You think if that ever actually happened, I would admit it on the blog? Yeah. Didn't think so.)

No, no... last night, it was baby poop. Around 3 AM, Ivy had a blowout all the way up to her shoulder blades. Conveniently enough, she was in MY BED while it happened. As I used the faint light from the bathroom to clean the poop out from in between her toes, I pondered the difficult nature of my situation. Obviously, I could see (and feel) that there was poop all over the bed. Logically, the most sanitary option was to move the baby off the bed, wake up my husband and have him move off the bed, and change the sheets.

I'm certain that had this event occurred at 3 in the afternoon, there wouldn't have been a moment's hesitation in following through with such a reasonable and sanitary chain of events. But seriously. It was 3 AM! I was oh, so very tired. The baby was finally clean and quiet, Josh was sound asleep beside me, and really, breastfed baby poop doesn't smell all that bad...

(Are you judging me? I think I feel you judging me...)

As I imagined the cool comfort of my pillow, I scrubbed the spot clean with a baby wipe, put a burp cloth over the spot, and promptly fell back to sleep. On top of the poop.

I didn't really realize how bad it was until this morning, when I found a softball sized spot of dried poop just below my knee.

Life with babies is so very awesome.

(I know, I know. So gross! Don't say I didn't warn you, though. Perhaps an adorable photo or two would make things better... taken on Ivy's birthday by an amazing photographer and my dear friend, Destinee. See more of her work here.)