If you had told me yesterday that I would be able to write this true sentence, I would not have believed you:
This morning, BabyGirl actually ate cat poop for the second time in her life.
Thank you, I’ll be accepting my Mother of the Year award from Brittany Spears.
I mean, really? Don’t you think once is enough to figure out it tastes like, . . . oh, I don’t know, CRAP??
It was only when I was talking to The Queen the other day that I realized how many gross things I’d seen involving my kids lately. In no particular order:
Exhibit A: Took BabyGirl to my Bible study last week. All the kids were playing upstairs while the moms did our thing in the basement. When I came upstairs to collect her and leave, I found her in the bathroom. With a plastic cup. Which had water in it. With her sleeves wet to her elbows. I asked her, “Did you drink the water out of the toilet?” She said, “Yesh!” with a big smile. Of course, if the question is phrased the right way you can get a two year old to admit they shot JFK, so I’m not sure how reliable her “Yesh” was. I sanitized her hands and dragged her yelling out the door. She wanted to drink the rest of the water in her cup. (Honestly, after cat poop, should a little toilet water be cause for concern?)
Exhibit B: We had some icy weather recently and the big trucks had come by sprinkling the road and parking lots with sand and salt. A few days later, BabyGirl and I went to our local Wal-Mart. (Don’t get jealous just ’cause we live on the wild side . . .) As we headed home, I could see her top half in the rear view mirror. She kept licking her hands. All I could think was how many germs had been on the shopping cart. If only. When I got home and opened her car door, I saw that she was rubbing her hands all over the bottoms of her shoes and then licking the salt off. The phrase “parking lot juice” just makes me nauseaus. I picture some huge guy spitting his ‘baccy juice on the ground, some drunk teens peeing on the cart return, and all those winter cold loogies that get hocked on the ground. I think I need to go lie down for a little while.
Exhibit C: One of my big kids, DearDaughter4 (DD4) had been complaining about not hearing well with one ear. (Don’t worry, this isn’t about bugs or worms in her ear. Even I wouldn’t find that funny.) Of course, SugarDaddy is a Googlechondriac, so he assumed this was some genetic disorder and we just should start learning sign language to prepare for her hearing loss. I took her to the doctor. When the doctor looked in her ears, she sent us to the clinic tech to get an “ear wash” so she could see the ears more easily. (Side note–there is a whole product line dedicated to the washing out of ears. Like little buckets that have a little hole for your ear so that when the water runs out, it just goes in the bucket instead of on your shoulder and down your shirt. Imagine some guy years ago saying, “I have this vision . . . <snap> I know–I’ll make little ear buckets! We’ll make a fortune!”) So the clinic tech gets all the equipment put out and starts shooting warm water into DD4’s ears. The little bucket is catching all that comes back out. Only it doesn’t look anything like water. More like a hearty apple cider. With little bits of real apple. I know, right?! I’m across the room keeping BabyGirl occupied, but I am fascinated with the bucket of cider. I asked the tech, “Are you getting a lot of stuff out of there?” The clinic tech, who, I am sure, deals with vomit, blood, and poop on a regular basis, actually wrinkled her nose like she was grossed out and said, “Yeah, a lot!” I was so proud. After the ears were both cleaned, DD4 said, “Wow, every time I talk it sounds like I’m talking through a megaphone!” I think she’ll be getting Q-tips for her birthday this year.