Murphy's Law

Have you ever noticed the chances of a piece of bread falling grape jelly side down, or right onto the blouse your wearing, is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet, or the day you decide to wear white.

It's like the miraculous recovery my son has as soon as we step foot into the pediatricians office.

 Or how the chances of being seen by someone you know, dramatically increases when you go out sans make-up and no bra.

As parents, (new parents especially), we are always planning ahead.  Filling the diaper bag with all sorts of tricks and treasures to avoid any kind of disaster that may occur. Extra clothes, extra snacks, anti bacterial everything. Water, band aids, Neosporin.   God for bid I was ever stuck in some sort of natural disaster I would be covered.

Actually wait... I wouldn't.  You want to know why?  Because without fail, it would be the one day I decided not to take the diaper bag.  I would be stuck right in the middle of a natural disaster, such as a diaper explosion with #2, sans make-up, no bra and zero supplies to help me through.

As my journey through parenthood moves from bottles and binky's, onto tantrums and terrible two's.  Toddler hood seems to be providing me with enough Murphy's Law moments to last a life time.

I have recently noticed what seems to be two sets of moms out there.  The one's that say, " Oh not my child." and the one's that say " Why is it always my kid?."  I fall into the second category.

Why oh why is it always my kid?  He is on a mission to dump, turn over, smash, pour, throw, and lick, everything he is curious about. There is no child proof spot unturned.  No glass left full, no fragile item not broken, and no hidden gadget not found in the toilet.

What amazes me about the whole thing, is I can't get my curious kid to try a french fry let alone a vegetable, but out an about walking our dog, he will surely find the one snail slinking along his slime trailed path, and put it in his mouth. "WHY MY KID!"

After a recent trip to the east coast to visit family and friends, we left a few parting favors behind I would like to apologize for.

 My mothers beige rug is now pink from all the water melon juice my son spilled on it, over and over again. My fathers already impaired vision might just be a little worse today, after my son picked up a fist full of mulch and wailed it at him like he was pitching a fast ball for the New York Yankees.

Oh and the reason the remote doesn't work anymore dad...MY BAD.  I found it in the toilet two days after it went missing.

When my in laws try to open the blinds this week in the family room, to let in some beautiful sunshine and have a moment of peace...Not gonna happen!  The damage my son caused by Tarzan swinging from one set up blinds to the other, has rendered them unworkable.  Sorry about that nanny and poppy.  I know a great blind guy!

Lastly to our dear friends who just had a brand new baby girl, who on arrival my son immediately tried to throw out of her vibrating chair, I am very sorry!  It won't happen again.

I'm sure one day a very valuable lesson will come from all of this mayhem, but until then, I think I will hand out warning labels with my son, and possibly some helmets.  You can never be to safe.