As I loaded Holden into the back of the SUV this morning and got him comfortable buckled into his booster seat, as I do every weekday morning to cart him off to school, I noticed something shiny reflecting back at me from jut below the neckline of his black t-shirt.
I leaned in closer to get a better look, and at first it appeared to be food remnants; For shame, 5 year old, for not chewing with your mouth shut!
Reaching over to him, I began trying to pick away at the ‘food’ crust- because really, no one wants their kid to be the crusty “can’t fucking chew with his mouth shut and sounds like a cow” kid in school, or to have the teacher thinking you sit at home eating bon-bons all day instead of running just ONE load of laundry- and it didn’t budge.
In typical (the stereo kind) Mom fashion, I licked my thumb and started working away- trying to see if the ever-amazing Mom-Spit would be able to clean him up and have him looking spiffy (Like he was when he had gotten dressed, only 15 minutes prior)- and then it hit me.
Holden has been sick for over a week now; so sick that I had to keep him out of school for 2 days because his fever made his head hot enough to fry an egg on (what? I’m going with old-school references here. Don’t judge). Once the fever broke, in came the boogers. Boatloads of sticky greenish snot thick enough to jump rope with like a Garbage Pail Kid (see? I’m sticking with this old-school thing).
This “food crust” I was so lovingly attempting to remove from my crotchfruit’s shirt was not food crust at all. It was booger crust.
I WAS LICKING HIS BOOGERS.
After a full body recoil (where I also backed into a spider-web and got it stuck in my hair and did a
WACKY WAVING INFLATABLE ARM FLAILING TUBE MAN dance) and unsuccessfully trying to spit the booger crust from my mouth, I got a fucking TISSUE and wiped the child’s nose and then sent him away to school where he BELONGS.
As if the neighbors don’t think I’m weird enough, now they likely think I’m possessed and they’re going to call a young priest and an old priest and start filling hoses with holy water and spraying me from a considerable distance.
This whole situation got me to thinking, though; I sure was glad to have the opportunity to be a stay at home mom or these booger-licking good times would have happened far more frequently I am sure.
We all know that any place where children congregate is a breeding ground for future biological warfare weapons. This includes but is not limited to indoor play-places (also must watch out for traces of fecal matter. hork), the children’s corner of a waiting room (how often do you think they ACTUALLY clean those toys? hmm?), and classrooms. Or rooms of kids that aren’t teaching class.
Children, small ones especially, are booger factories. Germy, disgusting, snot-bubble blowing, coughing with no hand over the mouth, sneeze down your shirt or onto your food mutants. I knew the day was coming where my children would be exposed to the kind of plague-ishness only carried around by other children; I prolonged it for as long as I could, but y’know- it’s all illegal and stuff to keep your child out of school unless you plan on teaching them yourself… and uh… YEAH RIGHT.
Those two days he missed school made me incredibly paranoid. Not because of the illness, mind you- but partially because I didn’t want to get sick, and MOSTLY because I didn’t want him missing too much. This was only the second week of school and already he was out- but as a *gulp* responsible parent, I also couldn’t send him in like a flash-grenade outbreak monkey while he was still infectious to hack and drip all over his little classmates and begin the zombie apocalypse (even though clearly someone had flash-bombed HIM)- could I?
Less barfy and booger-eatery, another realization hit me. For YEARS I thought my parents were sending me back to school while I still had a
tiny little baby cough death-hack to torture me. They want me to die! I’ll never get better unless I’m sitting in my bed watching cartoons and eating icecream!
But MOMMY, I don’t feeeeeeeeeel good!
Per usual, pop out my own spawn and it becomes quite clear that they were just doing the right thing as parents for me, even if it pissed my little ass off at the time. Just like I’m doing with my kids now.
It all comes full-circle, doesn’t it? The things we hated as children, swore we’d never put our kids through because of how AWFUL and torturous it was; making promises that when we had kids we’d let them stay up late and have no curfew and eat dessert for breakfast- and of course, we realize, even if we NEVER admit- that (for the most part) they were right all along. We also realize that we are more like them than we ever thought we’d be.
Does this mean my parents were once booger-lickers too? If so, I am in good company.
The fact that the wine section of Wal-Mart is directly next to the baby section cannot be an accident.
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Actions speak louder than words! pic.twitter.com/O2r8sDIBuT
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I've never had a near death experience, but I DID find 2 spiders in my house this morning, and that's pretty much the same thing.
If you like to be constantly criticized over your peanut butter to jelly ratio on sandwiches, being a parent is definitely for you.