We interrupt this medical saga for an emergency complaint.

If motherhood hasn't been featured yet on "Dirty Jobs," the Discovery Channel needs to send Mike Rowe to my house.

A typical day in my life involves about 20-30 sizable spit-ups, 1-2 poopy toddler diapers(generally one of questionable color and consistency that has leaked onto clothing), 4 poopy infant diapers, and an endless stream of wet diapers. (Ha! Stream!)

Thursday, June 4, 2009, however, proved to be exceptionally dirty.

In addition to giving my hair and clothes their usual milky soaking, Liam also regurgitated on the kitchen floor, his carseat, the bathroom floor, his swing, the living room carpet, my bed, the rocker-recliner, the loveseat, and the couch.

Between baby barfs, Soren worked to make his own contribution. He woke up with a poopy diaper. He smeared the table, a chair, himself, and his mother with peanut butter and jelly. He removed his diaper and peed on the living room carpet. He then ran to his bedroom, where he pooped on the carpet in there. I managed to redirect his efforts to the training potty in the bathroom, which he promptly filled with poo. And some more pee. And while I was cleaning the poop and pee out of the training potty (and off of two wooden blocks that had been dropped in the potty earlier in the day), he peed again-- on the bathroom floor.

When Liam woke up from his nap, I discovered that he had filled his diaper-- and one leg of his jammies-- with yellow feces. I washed the poop out of his jammies (and off his legs and my arm) and thew them in the laundry.

In the meanwhile, Soren was in the kitchen, practicing pouring by filling up a juice pitcher with water and emptying it into an already overflowing glass on the kitchen counter. It took two towels to wipe all of that up.

I put Soren in dry clothes and sent him into the back yard to play while I attempted to pick up the house. In picking up, I discovered a blanket-- fresh out of the laundry after one of Soren's more out-of-control diapers had leaked-- that Liam's earlier diaper had also leaked onto that particular blanket.

Soren came back in with pants and shirt smeared with mud that he had created using an ordinary garden house and a patch of dirt. And by one o'clock, my children had easily worked up an "extra large" load of emergency laundry and several more stains in my cream-colored carpet.

A garbage man doesn't have anything on me. In the two and a half years that I have been a mother, I have been spit up on, thrown up on, pooped on, peed on, cried on, and/or drooled on every single day. I have had all manner of food smeared on my body. I have leaked milk all over myself. I have sucked huge boogers out of little nostrils. I change little outfits multiple times a day. The day after I began the draft of this post, Soren spent his two-hour long naptime digging black poop out of his diaper and smearing it on his bedding and into his carpet. It is a dirty, dirty job, and somebody's got to do it.

I just wish I could afford for that somebody to be somebody else.