totally gross

by humanmama on April 12, 2012

There are many things I’ve come to savor as a mother that I would not have appreciated otherwise. Many of them are actually not things that happen, but when certain things don’t happen for a certain amount of time. Take, for example, catching someone’s throwup in your hand. Now, I worked with children my entire adult life and yet, if there was an incident of a kid throwing up, you can bet that I would not have caught it in my hand. Oh, sure, I’d be the first person to grab the kid and run him to a trash can to throw up in, or call his mother, but catching the throw up? Gag me.

Until I had a kid. There are a lot of times we’re in a pool or bathtub where Lilly has ingested some water–she has no fear, that one–and I hear it. The “cough…cough…retch” that signals the throwup is on it’s way. And what do I do? You better believe if we’re in a clean bathtub getting ready for tomorrow or a public pool I’m not going to let that crap surface! I catch it in my hand! That’s the least I can do!

Gross. Even typing that makes me gag a little.

And there are many, many more things I do that are actually, when I think about it, quite disgusting. If you’re a mom you get it. If you’re a new mom, you get it too, but without being totally self-righteous, you have no idea. There are some horrible diaper bl0w-outs, and some booger-sucking with that bulb thingy, that you’ve had do get through. Maybe some serious acid-reflux spitting up. But just wait, as they say, because kids just seem to get grosser and grosser until, as I’ve seen, they become teenagers and absolutely smell from every orifice. Now, they also get smarter and easier to talk to, which is good, but who wants to talk to a teenager who smells like BO and has horrible breath?

Today I sat down on the toilet for a full five seconds when Lilly, almost 3, barged into the bathroom, turned around, and pointed to her bum. “What?” I said. “Do you need to go potty?” [Figures, I was thinking, just when I have about 6 seconds to myself.]

Lilly wordlessly begins doing a sort of dance and pointing to her bum while wagging it in my face. “What? What do you–” My words were cut short. I noticed (thank you, skin-tight girl’s leggings) that there seemed to be something stuffed into her pants. I gingerly patted her bum and, to my great dismay, felt that the lump was warm.


fake shame. Gross.

Lilly laughed. She did the poo-poo dance again, pointing to her bulging leggings. When she realized I was not amused, she faked shame. I jumped off the potty, scooped up my dignity, and worked off the lumpy leggings to get to work. And I thought, being a mom is totally, totally gross.

At the very least, kid possesses the ability to fake shame when all else fails. And strangely, that pretty much makes it okay. Gross, but okay.

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