Peyton has always been a busy bee, even in her sleep. It is utterly exhausting just watching her play. A few days ago, I had arranged for our babysitter to come watch Peyton for a few hours while I ran errands to get the house ready for baby number 2. I felt guilty leaving her behind because I had barely seen her the past few days due to work, drs appts, etc. But then I thought about our previous shopping expeditions and immediately the guilt was gone.
I was so excited to see Peyton after finishing all my errands and got busy playing with her. I guess she decided it was payback time for being gone so long, and she went on a rampage to see how much she could do in the least amount of time. She woke up from her nap (she was initially asleep when I first got home), and decided to decorate her crib with poop. I said to myself "no worries, I will clean it up and get over it." After wiping down the crib and changing the sheets, I threw Peyton into the tub to clean her off. Then she pooped in the tub. I let out a few screams, but again said to myself "no worries." After wiping all the toys and tubs with clorox (not an easy feat to do with a massive belly), I took Peyton to her room to get her dressed. I put her on the changing table, turned around to grab her diaper and outfit, and by the time I turned back, she had pooped on the table. I did say a few words to Peyton about pooping everywhere but in her diaper, but still I told myself "no worries, at least it isn't diarrhea." She looked at my with innocent eyes and told me it was time to get dressed.
After cleaning up the THIRD poop incident, we went to my bedroom and settled down to watch a movie. She had a sippy cup full of milk and decided that she no longer needed a top on the cup. Well, that last about 1/10th of a second. A few unmentionable words later, I was now adding my comforter to the growing pile of laundry. While getting that cleaned up, Peyton ran off to the playroom and I thought nothing of the silence that ensued. Five minutes later, I checked on Peyton and what was she doing? Drawing on the walls with crayons. After a few minutes of silently staring at Peyton's artwork, I recollected myself, grabbed those spiffy Mr. Clean scrub brushes and began the cleaning process. While doing that, Peyton decided her artwork was just too good to not decorate her face as well. So she grabbed the yellow marker and began the decorate her lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, ears, arms, and hands. And did all of this in a matter of seconds while I had my back turned to her as I cleaned the wall. The kid is good. Imagine my horror as I turned around and saw my beautiful child covered in yellow marker. By this time, I had no energy to even yell. I sighed, and began yet another cleaning process.
It was during these few minutes that I experienced a brief moment of peace because I had Peyton in my hands thus making her incapable of destroying anything else. Sure that she couldn't do anymore damage, I set her free and started the second load of laundry. As I closed the washing machine, I heard the awful words, "uh ooohhh." Frantic, I ran into my bedroom and there stood Peyton with my beloved Kindle in her hands. She had managed to crack the side of it and knew she was in serious trouble. Of course, she did her puppy eyes and I could only manage a squeak of horror instead of a furious rant. She quickly ran out of the room while I cuddled my Kindle, silently begging for it to work just a little bit longer. Again, I hear the dreaded words, "uh ooohhh." I looked up to the ceiling and said "are you kidding me?" I walked out of the bedroom, and there was Peyton in the kitchen, covered in juice. Again she had decided she was a big girl and didn't need a top on her sippy cup. She managed to spill gallons (yes, I am being dramatic) of V8 Fusion juice all over herself and the floor. I could only look at her, and she knew just by that look that it was time for her to run out of the room. Back to my bedroom she went and a few seconds later I hear a crash. My shoulders dropped and my heart sank. I walked back to my bedroom and there was Peyton, standing on TOP of my nightstand with a lamp laying on the floor. Apparently, it was her turn to be on top of the nightstand and the lamp had no other choice but be thrown to the floor.
I. LOST. IT. To put it nicely. Thankfully Peyton decided that I had enough of this payback, and quietly sat on my bed and asked for a movie. I turned on the movie, told her not to move an inch or else, and walked back to the kitchen to clean the juice. Amazingly she didn't move an inch until her daddy came home thirty minutes later. Of course she was just an ANGEL for him. What a daddy's girl.
She managed to do all of this within 4.5 hours. I could feel the gray hairs growing on my head afterwards.