Passing On Judgement

I have a couple of friends with whom I carry on a running discussion throughout the day via text. Its awesome. Helps us feel a little less disconnected when we're stuck at home with the babies, gives us a constant sounding board, and gives us that "village" we desperately need.

One morning we were discussing how women love to judge one another. I don't know if it's an evolutionary method to cope with our own insecurities, or an errant flaw tied to that second X chromosome, but whatever the reason is, it ain't pretty.

Any time you get two women together and mention the name of a third (not in attendance), I can pretty much guaranfrickintee it that they will come up with something judgmental to say.

This especially true (and especially hurtful) when it comes to mothering.

Now I won't for a moment pretend that I am above this, but because I am so often the one doing the sucking of  wind, I try my best to remember that no matter how unorthodox the approach, as long as it isn't harmful, it's perfectly OK. Someone may be taking an approach that would not be my choice, but it doesn't have to be.

Things that I routinely hear people judge on which piss me off:

Breast feeding. When the hell did this switch from a personal choice to a socially mandated one? When Gisele Bundchen weighed in on this, I knew we had gone too far. There are plenty of moms who can't breast feed, no matter how hard they try. And plenty of emotionally grounded, perfectly healthy people out there who weren't breast fed. I have watched several of my girlfriends struggle and beat themselves up over this and it really sucks. It isn't for everyone. Deal with it.

Feeding choices in general. Vegan, vegetarian, organic, free range, sustainably harvested. Kraft, McDonald's, Chef Boyardee. Lots of choices and as a parent, it can be overwhelming. Especially when the little taste buds have opinions of their own. I am a firm believer in moderation. I may not be the Mom Of The Year, but if my kid occasionally eats French fries for lunch, it's not the end of the world.

Cleanliness. I was a bit of an anal nut. And then I had a baby. And then I was an anal nut with a baby. At a minimum, she was always spotless. And then I had a second baby. And he had acid reflux. And we didn't sleep. And my world went to hell. At this point, I am doing good if I can at least identify the various substances on each of us. Forget about constantly keeping my kids in color coordinated, spotless name brand outfits. Now I do my best to shoot for seasonally appropriate and cleanish. It works for us. And NPR recently ran an article on why it is actually BETTER for kids to be grimy, so I am am just overachieving in the "healthy" arena :-)

Punishment. This one is a pretty emotional one for most people, and for good reason. But the truth is, I honestly believe the right way to correct the child varies from child to child and parent to parent. There is no such thing as a universal approach that works for all children or all parents. The "Time Out" approach that may work beautifully with one kid may make the next laugh. I have found that the only thing that gets my kid's attention is turning Caillou off, and man does it work. Should Caillou be on in the first place? Don't judge.

Sleeping. My first kid was sleep trained by the time she was 6 weeks old. No joke. My second is getting there at 4 months, but the acid reflux is making it hard. Sleep training is a personal choice and the best approach truly depends on what works for the parents and the kid. Don't judge. You can't make the decision on the right choice for a mom, and you don't have to live with it, so suck it if you don't agree with her approach. Co-sleeping, Ferberizing, CIO, whatever works. I say as long as the mom and kid are happy, so be it. Parents have been sleep training since the beginning of time and there still hasn't been one perfect solution identified, so it isn't anyone's business what works for a particular mom (as long as it is safe).

If you have judged me through all of this, so be it. I am doing my best to raise my kids to be as happy, brilliant and healthy as possible. And I love my girlfriends who are doing the same. We may all have different approaches, but we all agonize over the decisions we are making and are taking our best guess when it comes to parenting. As my friend M says, its a "Voodoo Science". It truly is trial and error with the greatest stakes on earth, the future of someone that you love more than life.

I sincerely wish kids came with an instruction manual, it certainly would make parenting significantly easier.

S says "Judging is for Meanies"

But they don't.

So if you see a mom doing something that you disagree with, rather than judge her, why don't you take a few moments to tell her what you think she IS doing right. Because chances are that no matter how hard you are judging her, she is judging and questioning herself twice as hard.

The Liberator

My girl is a shoe liberator. Which isn't nearly as cool as it sounds.

See, I am a fan of shoes, especially cute ones. For myself, for others, and most definitely for my kids.

Sterling on the other hand is a believer in free range toes. Which means she is constantly liberating her shoes.

I  have loved dressing kids since my baby sister was born when I was 5. I changed her outfit every chance I got and even once pulled her dresser over on top of me in pursuit of the perfect shoes that were sitting on top.

So it was written in the stars that I would have fun dressing my kids, and I have. But my girl? Not nearly as thrilled with the perfectly coordinated tiny little outfits I choose as I have been.

In fact, her focus is consistently on divesting herself of clothes as quickly as humanly possible.

Thus the shoe liberation. Because as much as I love to buy adorable little boutique, podiatric-approved  shoes, she loves to toss them.

After nearly every shopping trip, play date and walk around the neighborhood I find myself hunting for a missing shoe. A wiser mom would probably give it up as a lost cause and invest in a bulk shipment of flip flops from Walmart, but then again a wiser mom would also probably have found a better way of wrangling my girl.

I on the other hand repeatedly find myself muttering "oh SHIT" when I realize I need to retrace my steps to figure out where the most recent shoe was released into the wild.

The amazing thing is that somehow I have developed a version of Spidey Sense which enables me to detect when the shoe has left the building.

For instance, today we were out for a walk with Pop Pop when I suddenly stopped in mid-sentence, and looked behind us. There, staring forlornly back at us from the middle of the road, about 30 feet away was one of Sterling's brown little ballet flats. The other one miraculously stayed on until we made it to the front yard.

I guess that the only thing to be said for all of this is that my girl definitely knows how to keep things interesting. Just think, with her strapped into a stroller, if it weren't for her shoe liberating then I might be able to take a whole walk without any mayhem...

Sleepless in D.C.

It's amazing the difference that sleep makes. Or the lack thereof.

Bennett was born November 28th. And that was the last time I got good sleep. He started off almost immediately getting up every hour to eat, and never stopped.

I quickly became desperate, but his pediatrician repeatedly assured me that this was normal. As the months ground on and we graaaaadddduuually moved to him getting up only every two hours, I slowly degraded.

My husband travels Sunday night through Friday night most weeks. This means that the few nights he is home, he is fried. Hardly in the frame of mind to take over completely to give me a rester. It also means that I was averaging 4 hours of sleep a night, gotten in one hour snatches.

It. Was. AWFUL.

My skin became sallow. I stopped really showering regularly or caring what I wore (sorry to all my friends out there). I made bad, bad choices. And I became an angry, bitter woman.

I always say that I become a different animal between the hours of 3 and 7 a.m. It's amazing how being repeatedly woken up during those hours ate away at my humanity. My girlfriend M told me that sleep deprivation is the CIA's most effective form of torture, and I believe it. After crying (repeatedly) at a play date, I began to realize how deeply I had lost it.

She is the same wise friend that told me "there is a reason that infants don't understand English", which is good because I had some choice words for my boy in those early morning hours.

So four months later, at the end of my rope and completely exhausted, I got sick of my degrading mental state and moved in with my parents. Sounds drastic I am sure, but I was desperate and we were selling our house anyway so it worked out perfectly.

No lie, the VERYFRIGGINNIGHT we moved in and my mom took over the midnight to 6 a.m. shift, that little turkey decided to start sleeping through the night. I shit you not!

It also coincides with me moving him to a new pediatrician that diagnosed him with severe acid reflux, but it's awfully flippin convenient that he just suddenly started sleeping now that I don't have to do it on my own any more :-)

I do have to say, it has made a HUGE difference in my mental state. I won't pretend that I'm exactly "normal", but I will say that I went out shopping tonight, and I put on makeup :-)

Mac To The Rescue

Feel free to file this under Over Indulged kids and ignore, but...

Sterling has an iPad. We originally got it as a "mommy sanity aid" and "healthy alternative to TV" while I was recovering from having the second baby, but she quickly learned how to find Caillou on YouTube and it became all Caillou, all the time.

Which was great until she discovered White Power Caillou. And Anger Management Caillou. And Gangster Caillou. Yeah, these are real things. Evidently whining is NOT the worst thing your kid can learn from Caillou.

She hears plenty of colorful language from me. The last thing I need is for her to learn is how to "beat a bitch down" from Caillou.

So the iPad went away. Which was actually a relief because although I loved it occupying her on those moments when I did something crazy like use the bathroom, I was always terrified of our investment getting busted no matter how robust the protective case was. And HOURS of Caillou at full volume was a little more than my sleep deprived body could handle.

But I always kind of missed it when we were in a situation where I needed a few minutes of "mayhem free time".

Then Nana introduced us to the iPod Touch. And angels sang.

Here's why:

First, it's small. Perfect for little hands to hold on to more easily. And less weight with a smaller screen decreases the chance of it breaking when it drops.

Plus it's quiet. It's loud enough for her to hear, but not loud enough to irritate the entire doctor's office. Or restaurant.

And it's pocket sized. Which means its easy to throw into your bag and have on hand for emergencies. Like flights. Or grocery shopping. Or "mommaisgoingtoloseitifyouclimbthatagain" day.

For a few bucks my mom downloaded some episodes of Caillou and then we turned off the Internet connection.

Perfect solution. Sterling gets her Caillou fix. And with less variety in episodes, she plays with her educational games more. I get an extra free hand when I need it most.

Special Bonus Perk: I don't have to explain the complexities of race relations and why there are certain words we don't use to my toddler before she turns two.

See the two photos in this post? Both of those are thanks to the iPod Touch because otherwise, there is no chance in hell her little body would stay in one place long enough for me to catch not one but TWO different shots of her laying down.

Oh, and I got a new iPad for myself out of the deal! That's the ultimate perk in my book ;-)

Puke And Rubber, Fun Times

I don't think for most moms, the rubber truly hits the road until they experience their first bout of stomach sickness with their kid. When they're sleep deprived. And have the stomach flu themselves. And have just been puked on for the umpteenth time and are trying to channel their inner Florence Nightingale rather than reverting to the sobbing mess that is their first inclination.

To give you little bit of a sense of just how awesome this is, I have two babies under the age of two and both have the stomach flu. And I have it too. And this stomach flu comes with a side of diarrhea. Which means I have changed a million poopy diapers in the last couple of days, times two.

And I am in the middle of a move to my parents house so that we can list our current house. This means that all of our belongings are heaped into baskets, bags, and other vessels for moving. And it means my world is in chaos.

A couple of my girlfriends have pointed out their (mistaken) belief that I thrive in chaos, and perhaps even seek it. I say that I thrive in change. I enjoy new experiences and possibilities and am always excited at what is around the next bend. And while I know a certain amount of chaos is inevitable in change, it eats away at my soul.

I like my change to be organized and controlled so that when life throws the curve balls inherent in change, I can react to them.

The stomach flu? It pretty much takes any ability to roll with the flow and craps on it. Or pukes on it. Or actually both if you are living in my world.

So if you see an exhausted, curly headed hot mess in the Pedialyte section of Walmart somewhere after 9 p.m. near tears because she has just discovered what she HOPES is poop under her nails, again, don't judge.

Cause chances are, the rubber is meeting the road.

Turd In A Glass

Bet that grabbed your attention :-)

Sterling likes to move things from one container to another. For instance, she loves moving her crackers from one bowl to the other in the morning. Or her toys from one basket to the other.

This morning I left the room to grab a bottle for Bennett, and when I came back, this is what I found.

It is a glass.

With a couple crackers in it.

And a turd marble.

Evidently, our house is not the kind of place you want to leave a drink unattended.

Nope, we are not gonna slip you a roofie. But a turd marble? Perhaps.

Any idea where the turd came from? Me either, but also not certain I want to know. Because I'm pretty confident that somewhere in this house, it's buddies are waiting in equally nasty locations…

This Is Why I Do It

My girl burns hard and fast, always has. For all the intensely crazy mayhem, there is an equally intense nap.


After she removed the cover from the vent in her room (again) and spent the first 40 minutes of nap yodeling "Mommy" down it, she finally crashed.

And crashed hard.

I snuck in to see where she had finally fallen asleep, and this is how I found her. Seems comfortable right?

After I uncovered her, I had to take a little while to just sit and admire the perfection that is Sterling Rose.

She may be ornery. And hard headed. Prone to bouts of mayhem. OK lots of them. And way too smart for my good.

But my girl is absolutely amazing and perfect in every way :-)

I hope she always stays this amazing.

Like Herding Cats

This morning I had a fight. With my 20 month old. Over what she was going to wear. I kid you not.

I love this child, she was born in this world knowing her mind and has not lost sight of her opinions since. It's part of what makes her special.

But when you're trying to make it out of the door and already running late, there's nothing quite like having an argument with your toddler over whether or not she's going to wear a top.

Especially considering that although her language skills are decent, she still is only intelligible for one out of every four words.

The discussion goes something like this:

Me: Want to go see Violet, Sterling?
S: mumblemumblemumble Vioyet
Me: okay then, let's put on your clothes.
S: NO Momma, no!
Me: Well, if you want to go, we have to put on your shirt.
S: No! No shiwt Momma!
Me: Do you want to go see Violet?
S: Yep!
Me: Let's get dressed then so we can go!
No! No shiwt Momma, so shiwt!!!
Me: Why no shirt?
S: mumblemumblemumble NO!

At which point she laid down in the floor and proceeded to have a fairly decent tantrum.

She then attached herself to her rocking horse so that I could not get the shirt on her.

The picture below? This is the outfit in question.

Hardly seems tantrum worthy, although her opinion is clear based upon the expression on her face.

Where's my wine... 

You Want To Know Why Mommy Drinks?

I used to think my life was so busy, and then I had two kids within 18 months of each other, and my husband went on the road full-time, and my daughter became a turbo mayhem toddler, and my baby developed acid reflux as well as severe dairy allergies, and he didn't sleep more than two hours at a time, and we decide to move, and I realized that I had no fucking clue.

To give you a sense of what "so busy" looks like to me now, let me give you a little sample of my day today.

After a night where my infant was up every hour or so (like most nights), he finally woke at 6 a.m. screaming bloody murder. When I changed him, I discovered an extremely nasty case of diaper rash covering his entire butt. I then spent the next hour trying to calm him down after the trauma of the diaper change itself.

At 8 o'clock, my toddler woke up. She announced she is ready to get the day rolling by screaming "Mommy" repeatedly, at the top of her lungs. Heart touching. I go in to discover she is naked and has taken her diaper off to pee on her blanket. Fun times.

We come downstairs, I get everybody cleaned up and fed, and then Bennett has the ultimate blow out. I decontaminate him, strip him, and am in the process of putting a new diaper on him when he considerately sharts and pees all over me... and my iPhone. Any idea how to clean baby poop out of the little button at the bottom of the screen? Me either.

I then had to go to a friends house to pick up something she printed up for me because my husband  packed away our printer already.

The mayhem involved in getting ready to leave was extreme. First, Sterling kept taking off a shoe,  hiding it and saying "Mommy, no shoe, no shoe".

Then, every time I had them ready to go, the baby would poop and scream bloody murder and we would start over. Again.

I finally got everybody ready and left the house. When we got to my girlfriends house, my girlfriend and her nanny were both clearly overwhelmed by the insanity that we brought with us.

First, Sterling climbed on every piece of antique furniture that my girlfriend owned. Then, Sterling found a tube of diaper cream and used it to create warrior battle stripes on her face and nose. Then, Bennett melted down for something to eat, and I realized that although I had prepared a bottle, I had forgotten it at home.

Then my girlfriend offered to change Bennett for me, I'm guessing because she could clearly see just how over my head I was. I think for her, the ultimate mind blower was when she realized that I had put Bennett in one of Sterling's diapers. To be honest, in my world, I am just thrilled when everyone is wearing a diaper. Screw caring what size it is.

So finally we made it back home, I fed the kids lunch, and put them down for naps. For some crazy reason, this stupid daylight savings is still jacking with them and they were both up within an hour. Sterling usually sleeps about three, so you can imagine her frame of mind when she woke up.

Throughout this all, I had kept my head purely by remembering that I had planned a girls night out with my good friend this evening. Amidst hours of tears, Sterling climbing on things that shouldn't be climbed on, more tears, Sterling throwing whatever was available, and did I mention tears, I had managed to get myself dressed, put makeup on, and looked halfway presentable.

And then I got the call from my babysitter...

Five minutes before she was supposed to show up, she got rear-ended on the beltway, and wouldn't be able to make it.

Want to guess what I'm doing tonight?

OSM: Clearly I Know Nothing About Fun Because This Doesn't Look Awesome To Me AT ALL

So what's better than sitting on a rocking horse as it rocks?


Standing on a rocking horse as it rocks.


While using it to jump onto an arm chair.


Over and over and over.


And if you yell "Oh Man, Wheeeeee, that's fun Mommy" over and over again, that makes it even better, right?

Ahhhhhhhh, wouldn't it be great to be a toddler where everything is awesome fun :)

Daylight Savings: Fight The Power

I'd like to kick the ass of whoever the bastard was that came up with daylight savings time. He clearly did not have small children.

I write this as I'm sitting here holding my screaming infant son, whose already tenuous schedule is taking a beating from daylight savings time.

It seems that with all of the components that rely on schedule (nap times, bedtime, eating, and overall general happiness), jacking with a baby's clock twice a year really makes no sense at all.

Throw on top of that the fact that last night I kept both kids up later in a misguided attempt to "get a jump on the schedule change" (which in my sleep deprived state, I mis-calculated) and you have the ultimate recipe for disaster.

So they are both REALLY jacked up tonight.

I say we storm Washington and demand a stop to the time schedule changes. Fight the man! Clearly Bennett is on board. Who else is with me?

Yeah, my parents were hippies. Why do you ask???

OSM: Daylight Savings Made Nap Time It's Bitch

I go to get S up from her nap today, and I hear a muffled cry. I open the door and she has her blanket wrapped around her head several times.



I finally get it off and she's soaking wet, hair plastered to her head and crazy curls everywhere.



She looked about as happy to be soggy as a wet cat.



So I bring her downstairs and I notice a big lump in one leg of her jammies, like her leg is a boa constrictor and has eaten something.

I check, and she's taken her diaper off, shoved it down the leg of her jammies :-)



She must have been saving it for later...



I have no idea what the hell goes through her mind sometimes, but it cracks me up!

The First Rule Of Fight Club...

OK, so you be the judge. Feel free to pick your favorite caption for this one:



A. Seriously Officer, when was the last time you looked this cute with a hangover? But I swear, this is the last time I drink anything "Cooter" whipped up in the back yard.

B. I may look rough, but you should have seen the monkey. Don't judge man, don't judge.

C. First Britney, now me. Why are the paparazzi always the first ones on the scene when there is a "delicate situation"...

Or did I miss the boat completely and there is a MUCH better explanation for this picture...

At Least He Is Honest

A little commentary from my infant on my overall parenting skills.

Eh, it could be worse :-)

Staying Up All Night Used To Be More Fun...

Bennett doesn't sleep at night. I don't mean that as in "he doesn't sleep longer than 4 hours at a go". I mean that as in "at almost 4 months old now, he only sleeps about 1 to 2 hours at a stretch".

Sounds like fun? It's not. At all. I don't care how sweet his gummy little smiles are at 5 a.m. Especially considering that my husband travels every week from Sunday night until Friday night, this means a whole lot of no sleep for me.

The other night, I offered Bennett a BMW when he turned 16 if he would just give me six hours of uninterrupted sleep. He passed on the offer.

If you ask me, he totally missed a killer opportunity. I was at the point where I wasn't even qualifying what model or trim level. As my girlfriend Megan says, "there's a reason why infants aren't usually involved in business negotiations".

Anyone want a little late night/early morning company? I might even throw in a BMW to sweeten the deal :)

A World With No Mayhem?

My parents took Sterling for a few days so I could recover from being sick. And even though I've still got an infant to take care of, it's amazing how quiet things are without her around.

The truth is, I've grown accustomed to having mayhem in my world. At this point, silence kind of terrifies me because that's when the bad mayhem really happens.

So while I sit here and play with Bennett, the entire time in the back of my mind there is the "what is Sterling doing now" thought rattling around.

To be honest? It's more than a little bit unsettling, I kind of miss my mayhem...

It Takes A Village...

They say "It Takes A Village To Raise A Child". And while I agree somewhat with this sentiment, I think the truth is that it should be "It Takes A Village To Raise A Child AND Maintain Your Sanity".

Because to be fair, there are plenty of people who raise children without any support at all. And I applaud them, because I don't know how the hell they do it.

But to raise a child on your own with no support AND maintain your sanity? Eh, that's iffy. I know, I have tried both ways and I have learned to depend on my amazing support network, but I barely make it through the day sometimes.

At a minimum, your village needs:

• An Overindulgent Grandparent Figure - Someone to completely spoil the crap out of your child, and give you someone to shake your head at.
• A Group Of Villagers - A.K.A. others who are in similar circumstances with whom you can compare notes with, bitch to, give and get support from, and help you find the humor in the everyday chaos.
• A Trusted Elder - Someone whose advice you trust, whom you can turn to when you are at your wits end and have no friggin clue where to go next.
• An Emergency Contact - Someone that you can call when you haven't showered in days, haven't slept in days, are at your wits end and have recently left the house with baby poop under your nails. Someone that you trust enough to dump your kids on while you retreat to neutral territory until you are a little more human. 
• The Village Idiot -  An individual whose parenting techniques make you laugh and (sometimes) feel infinitely superior. Yep, it's snarky but it's true. 

Today I have turned to my "Villager" girlfriends to bitch when my infant hasn't slept for the third night in a row, my "Overindulgent" parents who came down and partied with my little inmates for the day (and took one inmate with them when they left), and my "Idiot" who I absolutely love but whose advice to get my baby to sleep through the night was to "ditch him in the basement until he figures it out". Yep, it's an approach I have joked about, but she was dead serious.

So who is in your village, and do you love them as much as I love my crazy, nutty little group of townies?

This May Be Rock Bottom

Screw showering, I have regressed to the point where I can leave the house with baby poop under my fingernails and not realize it.

Imagine driving along in a sleep deprived haze, mindlessly munching on the first thing you have had time to eat all morning. Out of the corner of your eye you notice something under your nails and automatically go to lick the "cracker crumbs" off your finger tips, then stop.

Wait... crackers don't have crumbs that color. And it looks creamy, not crumbly. What IS that? You look closer, still stumped. And then you smell it... the sudden realization of what the hell it is hits like a Mack Truck!

Forget texting, parenting is the ultimate source of distracted driving.

It's kind of like finding a bug crawling on your arm. Even though you know there is only one, you feel them crawling all over you for hours afterward.

I swear that I can now constantly smell baby poop and keep checking my hands to make sure I haven't missed some.

And don't worry, that is just an "artistic representation" :)

OSM: Is Nothing Sacred?

I have just spent literally HOURS looking for the TV remote today. Starting with nap time, I started hunting for the remote because I have an allergic reaction to watching kid's TV when the kids are asleep.

So looked in all the usual places: nothing.

I took apart both sofas, both arm chairs, and the desk. I emptied both toy boxes. I emptied my diaper bag, the coat closet and my laundry basket that was in the room briefly on its way downstairs this morning.

Nothing.

I got desperate and changed the channel by hand (took freakin FOREVER). I took the sofas apart a second time. I looked in the rooms that Sterling MAY have thrown the remote into. I even took apart her room because, after all, who knows when that child is going to master teleportation.

Nothing.

And then, I realized there was one spot that hadn't even occurred to me...

Toddler vs. Licorice: Momma is the Only Winner

Is it wrong that watching my girl eat licorice is absolutely cracking me up?


Sterling got a bunch of jelly beans from her grandmother for Easter and has thoroughly enjoyed them.


I noticed a licorice one in her pile and reached out to snag it, guessing that she wouldn't like it and would end up spitting a soggy, sticky black mass out on the floor.


The second I snagged it she became fixated on getting that jelly bean back from me. I finally decided there was no harm in giving it to her and so I handed it over.


What has followed is nothing less than hilarity. She is insistent on eating it, but keeps screwing up her face, shivering and doing these odd mini dry heaves.


Every time I ask for it she clamps her mouth shut and chews furiously, which only generates more shivers and dry heaves.

I can't help but laugh. Hard headed little bugger is definitely getting the worse end of this interaction :)

OSM: Nap Time Tornado

So if you have any previous knowledge of Sterling, you know that nap times are especially fraught with mayhem. If not, let me give you a little bit of history.

Sterling is prone to mayhem. Thus, I need a break half way through every day. That means that during nap time, she stays in her room whether she is sleeping or not.

When she was about 14 months old, she learned how to climb out of her crib. No matter what I tried, she kept getting out so I bit the bullet and switched her to a toddler bed.

She then discovered that if she pulled the drawers of her dresser open, she could climb to the top. So my husband spent a day installing "baby proof" latches in all of the drawers.

Evidently, she has learned how to open the latches. Nap time may never be the same again.

This picture shows just a sampling of the mayhem she committed today. I will let the fact that there is no sheet on her mattress speak for itself. As for the stuff on top of the dresser? It was clean at the start of nap, so she either threw it up there, or (more likely) climbed up to put it there. And the fact that the bed is in the middle of the room? My girl likes to rearrange...