Friday, May 20, 2005

Bodily functions and how someone else's is grosser than your own

I'm done with it. I realize that nobody wants to hear it and that I was determined to not be one of those mothers that spends a lifetime discussing bodily functions, but I don't think I can do it anymore. The pee, the poop and above all others, the spit up. It is so nasty. And why does it seem like I'm the only person that is grossed out so utterly and completely by my child?

Today I spent the day with my friend Adrian and her family to celebrate her graduation from GMU School of Nursing (you go, girl). Her aunt Renee was desperate to hold E.

KH: But he'll spit up on you.
R: I don't care.

What do you mean, you don't care? How can you not care that there will no longer be one inch of dry clothing on your body when you finally hand this child back to me?

Today he spit up Matrix style. As it came out of his mouth, I was so stunned I could not move. It made an arc to the side and then, wonder of all wonders, angled back and landed right in my cleavage. All 2 ounces. He smiled sweetly, but it didn't matter.

But I think that the best is yet to come. Yesterday I experienced something that can possibly be even grosser than E's neverending spit up.

Marelle's 18 month old, Elijah, is getting a couple of molars. With his teething came a cold.

MA: His snot is not green, it's yellow. I promise.

Guess who was looking through rose-colored glasses?

But the color wasn't what was so fascinating about Elijah's snot. It was the fact that his snot ran from his nose like Angel Falls. Just when you thought there could be no more fluid in his little body, the snot would run over his lip and down to his chin. In his parent's defense, they were on top of the situation as much as possible. His father Eliot followed him for the entire 4 hours he was here, and went through what seemed like at least 7 rolls of toilet paper, wiping that poor kid's nose.

No end in sight. I thought that maybe a wet/dry vac might be an option, but it seemed cruel in retrospect and probably could have ended a 20 year friendship if I had suggested it.

I hate vomit, but I'm guessing I'm going to hate boogers more.

Whose idea was this anyway?

SHE'S BAAAACK (and just in time to almost burn the house down)

I have decided that 18 days is a sufficient mourning period for the loss of one's occupation/career/identity. Byegones.

I decided yesterday to bake some chocolate chip cookies. I am an unemployed housespouse now so I figured I should act accordingly. That and I make bitchin' cookies. In fact, my cookies are so good that I would sell them and probably make a million dollars, except for the fact that there are all those zoning issues and you have to let a county inspector into your house to look around. I don't think the inspector could get past the mound of dog hair by the front door. Of course, it's not like I am letting the dog make the cookies (or even lick the spatula midstream in the process) but you know how these damn government types are....

So I got really inspired when it looked like Derek might be thinking about making beer in the kitchen. He left for a second and I had the mixer humming. Touche. Beat cha, beat cha.

Well, the cookies take like a million years to cook and I got inspired to go to Costco to get food for dinner with our friends Eliot and Marelle that night. Derek came with me (which was great because I lost my Costco card about 3 days after I got it, which was around 2 years ago). An hour later, Derek opened the door to a plume of smoke and the smoke detector going "BEEP, BEEP, BEEP" incessantly.

Probably shouldn't have left that last batch of cookies in the oven before we went, huh?