The suckage continues to build over here in paradise. Today, I had a particularly rousing collection of grossness. I hesitate to even TELL YOU about it, but in the end, of course, this blog is for me to get it all out in the open...
This morning, I pulled dried pieces of snot out of the baby's nose. Yum. Not my baby (because that trumps every gag reflex) and so, I was basically picking someone else's nose for them.
Then, I got puked on. I mean PUKED ON. And I am a reknowned sympathy puker. My cashmere sweaterwas totally COVERED in thick, sticky, barium-infused puke. It. Was. Awesome.
Not as awesome as the latest tantalizing tidbit. Something I suspect Lucy's little sleepover buddy left for me. Poop. On our white, terry cloth shower curtain.
Does that look like the world's largest washcloth to you? And why would you wipe your poopy butt on a washcloth ANYWAY, or a towel, or SHOWER CURTAIN. Especially when you had to step past the toilet paper and the flushable wipes to do so. I mean, it's not a trick - it's a curtain, hanging across the SHOWER.
Sometimes, I hate my life. I am now paralyzed with fear of what else may be looming in the corners of my home. A puddle of pee ? Skidmarked panties ? Hairballs ? Snot wiped on walls ? I laugh at these silly little mishaps - I am sure that there is something of hideous, legendary proportions somewhere in this house. I am going to need a LOT of Xanax for this.
1 hour ago