Remember all that crap I wrote in a prior post about being a good mom. It was BS. Because I resorted to writing about it, I clearly am trying to convince myself that no, I don't need to be carted away for my poor maternal behavior.
Take this morning, for instance. I was in the shower trying to decide if my nasal passages were ever going to feel the air again or if I was forever destined to walk the earth with a head full of snot.
As I contemplated this, the baby was wandering around the bathroom. I figure that as long as I don't hear the toilet seat go up, we're good. But then he started to cough. I peaked around the side of the shower curtain and there he was, standing in the middle of the bathroom, trying to cough out little pieces of toilet paper from the last square left on the the roll that had been thrown in the trash can.
You guys know that last square. The square of toilet paper that is stuck to the roll that you neglect to liberate now because, by God, you have a little more money and you don't need to get that roll out of the trash can and use the last square like you did in college. The efforts you used to take to liberate the last millimeter of toilet paper on the roll back in college because damn it, you didn't have any money to buy toilet paper and you meant to steal some from the john at school but you got distracted by that really hot guy that sits in front of you in English, and now you are going to have to try to use the brown roll because the last square isn't cutting it.
I went back to my shower because if I don't figure out how to breathe soon, we are going to have bigger problems than toilet-paper-breath on the baby. I finished my shower and flung open the shower curtain to find my child standing in the middle of the bathroom with a used Q-Tip dangling from his mouth like a cigarette. Gross? yes. But did I get my shower? yes.
I say there is another side of that Q-Tip when you are finished with that one, buddy. I still have to get dressed.