Dogs Eat Baby Puke

Yesterday I was carrying Ace around the kitchen when he spit up, accompanied by the familiar spattering sound as it hit the hardwood floor. Without much thought, I called our dog Hugo over and he licked it up. I say "without much thought", because that's just what we DO. When our baby pukes on the floor, instead of grabbing a paper towel and wiping it up, we command our dog to eat it. As I was watching him lick up puke (Uhh, Hugo? You missed a spot), I wondered if any other parents have used this #parentinghack and I'm guessing not because it is absolutely disgusting and also maybe borderline animal abuse. Demeaning for Hugo, to say the least.

That got me thinking about all the gross things I do every day without even considering how gross they are. I've always had a rather high tolerance for gross things, but motherhood has taken me to the next level. Parenthood is not for the squeamish.

1) Poop

Of course poop is #1. There is just so much poop. The consistency, the smell, the colors- oh boy, these kids keep me guessing. We're starting to potty train Jack, and the other day we watched him squat and shit right on the patio and we just laughed. In any other normal situation, you would be deeply disturbed to witness someone shitting on your patio but I was just glad it was outside. Hosed them both down and called it a day. The farts, the blow outs, the diaper rashes in every crevice- it's never-ending and its all done with my bare hands.

2) Boogers & Snot

During the peak of winter when every child is a nonstop dripping faucet of mucous, I found myself if the strange habit of carrying kleenex around in my sport bra. This was for a couple of reasons. Number one being, I wear leggings nearly every day and there are NO pockets. Number two being, I am fucking disgusting and can't take the time to get fresh kleenex every hour or so and then throw them away. I was exactly like that mother in Billy Madison who wipes the snot off her kid's nose and then tucks it in her bra. That movie made it seem "sexy" and "weird" but I can guarantee the bitch just didn't have any pockets and there is nothing more cringe-worthy than watching your fucking kid walking around with snot and boogers coming out of his nose. Next to the used kleenex in my sports bra, you can usually find my Nose Freida.

If you're not a parent, chances are you've never heard of the Nose Freida, and I honestly deep down to my bones, envy you. This contraption is a mouthpiece connected to a sponge connected to a hose with a nostril insert thingy that you stick in a baby's nose and suck mucus out using your own goddamn mouth with only a tiny sponge to separate you. Google it if you don't believe me!

More disturbingly, there is a version of the Nose Freida that is for your baby's butt when they are constipated. I do not own this, and have never used one- but you know what? If one of my kids was painfully constipated and nothing else would work, I'd for sure be sucking that poop out of their asshole. Unconditional love, baby, it makes you do weird things.

3) Snacks

One delightfully oblivious thing I never knew before parenthood was how quickly milk curdles. Forgotten sippy cups litter this house like tiny disgusting bombs, all in a different phase of decay. If I were a more diligent mother, or a less disgusting person in general, maybe this wouldn't be an issue. But I'm pretty sure this is a universal problem, because toddlers are just assholes. Jack squirrels his cups away everywhere. Under the couch, in his bed, in my sports bra!

On top of the sippy cups, every inch of our house is covered in food because Jack is constantly demanding snacks. What is most annoying is that he'll only take a couple bites and then forget it somewhere, usually on my couch. Poor Hugo can't even keep up with this steady stream of discarded granola bars, noodles, popcorn, eggs, fruit snacks, raisins, baby puke, etc. It is fucking insane the amount of food that comes out of our couch, our car, our rug, my sports bra!

When I see young couples with light colored furniture- or dear fucking god WHITE FURNITURE- I quietly laugh to myself and think you dumb bitches, buckle up. There is peanut butter everywhere- no one is safe. Watch out, here comes the jelly. Jack knocks over glasses of red wine like he's some kind of cartoon toddler bowling ball. I cannot stress enough how much he does not give a fuck about cleanliness. He is a cheeto-fingered, syrup-faced, muddy-feet tornado that follows me around all day destroying every room in this house, but on the bright side? For the most part, I don't really care. I've never been what you could consider a "neat freak" or even "a little bit clean". I told you, I have a tolerance for gross things so a few (million) crumbs on my floor doesn't really bother me. I just wear shoes. I try to embrace his endearing clumsiness when he spills another glass of anything he stumbles by or when he you know, shits on my patio.

4) Mud

There's just a lot of dirt involved with a 2 year old. Like, you think you know, but you don't really know. Dirt on his face, dirt under his fingernails, dirt caked on his feet at the end of each day slippery from his lil crocs. And dear GOD, with Ace learning to crawl- nothing makes me more self conscious of my cleaning skills than looking at the dirty knees of his pajamas after crawling all over the house. So much dirt.

It is nearly impossible to keep them clean and I find myself wondering what mothers did before wet wipes and kiddie pools. I don't know! Probably watch their children better or keep a cleaner house!