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Five minutes ago I gave Liam a full sippy cup with the hopes that it would hold him over until I could get lunch together.  He just returned with an empty sippy cup with suspicious splatters.  He kept pointing to his room so I went with him.  I went to pick him up to expedite the process when I realized that what must be the majority of the contents of the sippy cup are now all over the front of his clothes.  He was soaked to the skin (and now so am I).  I now have an hour to find out where else in my house there is milk (or I guess I could wait a few days and sniff everything until I zero in on the sour stench), give Liam lunch, and give him a bath (there was so much milk in his shirt that when I took it off it soaked his hair and it’s already sour and slightly crunchy).  I have no idea how this happened but I feel sure that blogging about it while the clock is ticking was the right decision.

Near the very top of my least favorite parenting things to do is to change the diaper pail.  This is partially linked to my experience as a nanny, but that’s another (much too long, much too involved) story.  So today when I went in there to change the pail and took it out by the front door only to open the front of the pail and have all the diapers fall out on the floor because the bag insert was empty, let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant.  My living room now smells like a rest stop.  Fantastic.

Since Liam got big enough to reach the cords on the couch, we’ve stored our laptops in the back bedroom on the desk (don’t ask why we didn’t start out with them in there…).  This system has worked well for about a year now.

Today the fun is over.

Liam has already taken to flipping the switch on the front of the Sony to turn the internet off (I can’t even count the number of times I was completely flummoxed by the fact that the internet appeared to be working downstairs and on the Mac only to find that toddler fingers had intervened) and he’s unreasonably interested in trying to open the Mac and stick his fingers (and once, his tongue) into any USB port he can find.  He also has an affinity for crawling under the desk and trying to unplug the main power plug (again, at least one time using his tongue).  I knew when we were looking at houses that I would have preferred a house with high ceilings.  What I didn’t know was that we would actually need those high ceilings for more than an open feeling, we’d need them to store all the things that Liam can now reach that are dangerous.  I envision shelves that reach up to 10-foot-tall ceilings with some sort of library ladder system to access all of our belongings, but I digress…

Our (lotto level) plan was to incorporate a work-station into the kitchen redesign to include a small desk area where all plugs and cords could be neatly stored in such a way that little hands couldn’t reach (or even see) them.  We tend to use our laptops as newspapers so it’d be nice from a logistical standpoint as well.  Well–it could take a decade (or a new house–which could be more than a decade) before we have a place for the laptops in any sort of redesigned kitchen (at which point we won’t have any little hands in the house–simply medium-sized ones that understand (and actually listen) to the word NO, knock on wood) so the laptops have got to be moved.  Today.  Right now.

I swear, if I go into Liam’s room one more time to find all of his (previously) neatly folded clothes all over his floor and one or both part(s) of his trash can in his hand(s) I’m going to scream.  So just ignore it when you hear it and know that at our house someone’s room is currently in time-out.