As a parent, you will never have the privilege of going to the bathroom with dignity ever again. Your kids will eat the groceries you paid half a month's income for in less than two days. And what you once claimed as your own will now belong to everyone but you. This includes, but is not limited to, your razor, your toothbrush, your money, and your sanity.
Something else that is inevitable is the fact that the more you try to look nice and get some class on, the more likely it is that your nursing pad will be clearly visible through your shirt, or there will be baby snot on your shoulder. Even when you're out of the baby stage, the kids get creative. All that Keeping You Up At Night serves the purpose of sending you into public with deep purple bags under your eyes. Kids are sadistic.
Because Micah is an especially creative kid, he comes up with especially creative tortures for me. Like poo. He finds the most inconvenient times for a poo that he can. His newest was walking between the house and the van, so that as we were all buckling in we were smelling it. Given that we perpetually run late, I rushed him into the house, changed him, and rushed him back to the van.
When I got into town I thought that he must have finished what he started earlier because I smelled it again. A quick check told me that I was wrong, but the smell just wouldn't go away.
It was then that I realized that I was smelling my own hands. Being rushed, I forgot to wash. And I can testify that Purell may kill 99.99% of germs, but it does not kill odor.
Hi, I'm a mom. I have no dignity left.
9 comments:
Nice!! I bet most of us have done this at some point.
I had a similar deal - the divine aroma following me around was coming from the giant toddler poo smear down the front of my jeans. Pretty lady.
The sleeping stairs picture is adorable.
I babysit for a two year old. Usually I get to pee in peace but last week she walked in, handed me a book and refused to let me get up until I read the entire thing. I love her, bt I'm pretty sure she would have let me sit there all day.
I suspect that if the government was really serious about getting information from prisoners and the like, they need only look to a small handful of children to 'torment' the accused! Lesser women and men would have given in after having to return to the house for a change! I'm the Mom who walks around in navy blue shirts with white spit-up stains running all the way down the back and pumpkin stickers stuck to my rear-end.
And how stinkin' awesome is that picture?!
bwaahahahahahahahaa!!!!
*gasp wheeze cough gurgle*
bwahahahahahahahahahahaa!
A shiver just raced through my body! Hold onto hope Karen, I've seen plenty of very classy old ladies and I'm thinking at one time they were like us...
I'm sure you and I will rock the walking stick look.
I'm so jealous. :)
My 18 month old daughter is a trip. Her speech is really taking off, and things that wouldn't usually be funny are really hysterical when her little voice utters them. Last week though, I was in the bathroom when she came flying in, "Mommy, I'm here! It's gonna be okay Mommy, I'm here so you don't have to poooooooop alone." I said, "Baby, most people like to be alone when they use the potty." She gave me the most dubious look and said, "Okay, if you say so....but, not you Mommy, you like me to sit on your lap." Pretty sure my dignity was gone long before this, but, the fact that I'm retelling this story proves that I don't really remember what having any was like.
I can only giggle. And maybe snort a little.
See....it gets better when they get older. I was track-shoe shopping with the Teenager last week. Well, you can't just leave your shoes unattended on the floor somewhere while you walk around the shoe department at the sporting goods store; some random kid will certainly snag them. So I carried them around for him, dangling off my fingers.
It took much longer than I want to admit to realize that the smell of stinky feet? Was coming from my fingers and not his old shoes buried in the box in the back of the truck on the way home.
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