I Love You. You're Disgusting.
Ready for a little TMI? If you’re not, then too bad. Read about the glamour, the beauty of the motherhood that is my reality right now. I dare you…
I was ill prepared for how disgusting motherhood would be. It started right away too – pregnancy is so gross. I don’t care how much you LOVED being pregnant (I didn’t), you have to admit it was rude. The gallons of toxic vaginal mucous and crusty stuff coming out of my nipples made me wish I had saved all those latte dollars for a surrogate.
At any rate, I made it through. Then came the super yucky delivery – placenta pate anyone? Truly horrifying recovery – fourth degree tear, couldn’t wipe my ass clean after a bowel movement for almost two months. And infancy – poop pee poop pee poop pee and so on and so on and so on. I had changed dirty diapers before, as a babysitter in my teens, but I was really disenchanted by the other grossness of motherhood.
My little girl, Aubrey, is almost three. Three in June. She’s sweet and kind. Snuggly and girly. She loves her baby doll and her stuffed animals. She loves to smell flowers and help mommy bake in the kitchen. She’s also the grossest person I’ve ever met. Every day seems to bring a new level of yuck into our home, especially since using the toilet is still so funny, exciting and scary all at once. Lots of potty talk.
Now, before I go any further, I’d like to state that I do NOT have a weak stomach. I grew up with three older brothers and it’s almost impossible to truly gross me out. I just can’t believe how rude motherhood can be.
These are three actual, verbatim conversations I’ve had with Aubrey recently:
(Opening to Aubrey’s bedroom door upon waking up in the morning.)
Aubrey: Mommy! Look! (running up her bed to her pillow, pointing to a gray, crusty blob on the wall) That came out of my nose!!
Me: Wow! That’s great sweetie! Is that a big boogie?
(She was SO excited.)
(Aubrey sitting on the toilet but not going potty, starts poking around down under. Like REALLY down under, to door number two. Then she sniffs her index finger and yells.)
Aubrey: What’s that smell?! (holding her finger out to me) Smell it mommy!
Me: No thank you. I don’t want to smell your finger. Are you done trying? Let’s wash your hands.
(Aubrey is digging ferociously in her ear with her pinky. She pulls it out and offers it to me.)
Aubrey: Taste it mommy!
Me: Ummmm… no thanks.
I often wonder why I still like this person. If this were an adult, I would not want to hang out with them. Young children are so primal – like little animals. Sometimes I feel like I have a magical talking pet in the house. And it’s times like these that make me realize the mother child bond really is something special. There’s no one else in the world whose offer of “smell my finger” after touching their butt, would make me laugh and inspire me to write.
I know it’s my job to teach her it’s inappropriate to do these things. The trick is to do it without making her ashamed of or self conscious about her body or feel like she’s naughty for exploring her world. It’s a fine line and no one wants their child to be the gross-out kid at school.
I’m enjoying the humor in all of this while I can because I know, soon enough, my daughter will be a big kid who likes the feeling of being clean, washing her hands and brushing her teeth all on her own. I think it’s right around that time she will start thinking I’m totally lame and embarrassing and I’ll be writing about ungratefulness instead. So for now, I’ll take the boogers and stinky fingers in exchange for all the hugs, kisses and I love you mommys. Totally worth it. Gross, but worth it.