Before Charlotte came along, I was not the "neatest" person, by any means, but I did always try to take good care of the things I had. For instance, our sofas. Both are hand-me-downs that have been around for many, many years. Even though they were old and beat up, I liked to keep them "nice." Our main couch almost got to the point of no return last fall. The rips in the cushions started to become obscene. We ran out of decent blankets to try to cover up the tears in the fabric. I started considering buying new sofas because I finally had a good excuse... we had a new house AND they were disintegrating right before our eyes. Luckily some wise moms steered me in a much more logical direction. Basically they said, "NO! Don't do it!"
See, what these moms knew that I didn't was that it doesn't matter how much you care about your sofa. It doesn't matter if it has rips and tears or in pristine condition. It doesn't matter if it is brand new or older than time itself. Nope. Spit up explosions stop for no one.
Today is yet another day that I am grateful for my pretty, green slipcover that perfectly camouflages the splitting cushions, easily comes off to be washed every time spit up goes streaming down my leg, and was much less expensive than those sectionals I was eyeing up in the newspaper inserts. Plus, we all know that worn-in sofas are so much cozier, and who has time to break in a new sofa when you have a baby who's begging to be burped?
