The other morning I was trying to sleep in a little after having had some insomnia (as did the baby!) over night. The baby hadn’t cried too much, but she’d been making noise and chattering away over the monitor on and off between 2 and 6 am. Shortly after that, I heard some belly noises. I tried to convince myself that it was NOT the dog – whose butt was positioned right around my pillow (this is not the game of Russian roulette you want to play on belly noises!) – but instead the baby. Yeah, like I wouldn’t have had to clean up a mess if THOSE noises (note the volume of noises directly next to my head v. over the monitor) were coming from the baby. Anyway, I finally dragged myself up to take him out at about 6:30 and bemoaned my lack of sleep.
I explained this all to my husband when he got home (he’d worked 24 and got home around 8), noting that when I heard the noises I knew I was going to have to clean someone’s butt – be it the dog or the baby. He looked at me and said – “Babe, this is the time in our lives when we deal with people’s butts. I am not a firefighter. You are not a Finance Manager. We are the butt cleaners. This is what we do. This is purpose right now.”
Well, as long as I have a purpose.