Let me start by saying that it was not me who woke up early this morning to the sound of a baby vomiting. It was not my eleven month old who covered herself, her mama and the entire bed in puke. And it certainly wasn't me who, in a drowsy haze, halfheartedly wiped up the mess, threw another sheet over the top of it and went back to sleep.
On that note, it also wasn't me who found a perfect chocolate chip wedged in Morgan's belly button as I was changing her diaper. And I can assure you it was not me who ate that chocolate chip to avoid having to get up, walk across the room, and throw it away.
I've heard that motherhood has a way of taking logic and turning it right on it's head... fortunately, that hasn't happened to me.