You know you're in the Mother-Hood when...

You Know You're in the MotherHood When...

You've sniffed a spot on your shirt and been able to determine the origin of said spot with CSI efficiency.

You let someone see you basically naked because he said he was an anesthesiologist.

It's a good day if you actually had time to shower, without interruptions or an audience of any kind.

Your meal plan has consisted of eating whatever mac and cheese is left in the pot after you've served it to the kids.

A drawing of you with a head the size of a watermelon is the prettiest picture you've ever seen.

Everyone but you being asleep counts as "alone time."

You feel a sense of accomplishment if you read an entire article in People magazine in one sitting.

You can name 3 out of 5 Backyardigans - you know you can.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The *^%$ Has Really Hit the Fan

If there's a Mom Badge for Gastoenterology, I so earned it today.
I get it. Everybody Poops. There's even a book about it

What I never imagined was the amount of time I would spend talking about, cleaning up and generally dealing with "it."

The first time your newborn leaves you that little present, you just about bronze and shadow box it. Then, a few months later, they start eating baby food and those little newborn treasures aren't so cute anymore.

Eventually, your cute little baby turns into a toddler who, somehow, shares the bowels of a trucker but the inability to use the toilet, thus leaving nothing close to a gift for you to take care of - each time silently repeating the mantra "I will get this child potty trained, I will get this child potty trained."

Sometimes, you get an extra bonus like I did this morning.
Walk with me, won't you?

I woke up very early and immediately jumped up to let my dogs out as soon as I could possibly manage in my "no coffee yet" stupor.
Too late. Someone, either one of my geriatric dogs or my puppy, had decided that they couldn't wait to go out this morning and left me a little "present." That euphemism doesn't come close to making it less gross.
At least the slightly gnarly smell of the carpet cleaner did its best to wake me up, although I still very much prefer the wafting aroma of freshly ground coffee; or even better, the tickling bubbles of a Mimosa.

With the carpet cleaned (including the big wet spot my 14 year old lab laid down for me right when I started cleaning - I'm chalking that up to doggie senility, she doesn't usually do that and she is nearly 100 years old "technically") I headed downstairs for my morning cocktail of coffee and Excedrin Migraine. I woke up with a headache already and the HazMat clean up didn't help the situation.

At this point, I am trying as hard as I can to be a bottle's half full kind of gal (screw the glass, half a glass isn't going to help me) and I sipped my coffee, thinking of how the day can only get better from here on out. Everyone who agrees with me take one step forward - AH! Not so fast!

I look down to discover my son, who's two (see toddler entry above) grabbing a wipe from the pop up dispenser. Not too unusual, as he likes to wipe off his hands and face himself, and sometimes the couch or the table (who am I to judge, if he wants to help clean, go for it - after he's potty trained, I'm thinking of just putting Pledge dusting wipes in that dispenser and he can go to town on the woodwork.)
This time, however, does not look like the typical self sponge bath - and I say that because there is a print resembling pudding on the dispenser. It's 7:00 am. There's no pudding in the house. That jigsaw puzzle picture pretty clear now?
Yeah. We just hit Gross-Com level 4.
He's never stuck his hand in his diaper before, and I pray to the Pampers Gods he doesn't do it again. Got that cleaned up, sanitized, Purell-ed and all but hosed everything down.
(Even my seven year old, who was not involved in the clean up at all felt compelled to use the Purell, frankly I don't blame her. Gross by association!)

So, here I sit. Sipping my second cup of coffee. Thinking, again, that the day has no where to go but up from here, since it literally was in the s*^%%#* this morning.

I just keep thinking, when is that guy who hosts "Dirty Jobs" ever going to just follow a mom around for the day?
THAT would be messy on a whole new level - and mom's don't have all that protective gear to wear either. Just send us in with a ponytail and some Lysol and we're all over it.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are too funny. I have been there. Oh, man have I been there. You are not alone :)