The gross kind.
I have no idea how I got this way. Maybe I was born with it. Maybe I've developed it over the years, like a well-practiced skill. Not sure.
The other day, I saw this post on Facebook - "What is your parenting super power?" Or something like that. The answers were actually pretty interesting. People said things like...
Getting my kids to love vegetables.
Making fabulous bento boxes. (I still have no clue what that is. Just a partitioned tupperware? How does putting food in a partitioned tupperware count as a superpower? Puzzling.)
Sewing unique Halloween costumes.
Planning Pinterest-worthy parties for kids.
What's my parenting super power? That's easy.
Handling gross stuff. Like a boss.
Earlier I said that I have no idea how I developed this super power, but I process things through writing, and I just had an epiphany. About ten minutes ago, Gus projectile vomited about two meals' worth of food all over the floor. Guess who cleaned it up. Yep, Murphy. If I'm the Batman of gross parenting, Murphy is my Robin. He's right there to back me up. The smellier, the better.
And not only that. If I'm the Karate Kid of yuck, Murphy's my Sensei. He trained me in on this stuff. Picking up dog poop? That's child's play compared to the countless animal carcasses I've pried from his jaws...mice, frogs, fish, random deer body parts. And if you have a dog, you know that if they eat something resembling a string, they're going to need help getting it out. The first time I did it? Nearly lost my lunch. But since then, it hasn't phased me.
Like I said, this dog trained me well.
So now, when a baby spits up on the floor, I wipe it up with my sock and one-sock it for a while until I make it back to my room for a new sock.
My kid hands me a piece of poop from the bathtub? I don't even flinch.
My sons have peas and carrots all over their faces and there's no washcloth in sight? I just lick it off. No biggie.
No kleenex for the kids? My sleeve works just as well.
Not sure how to dispose of the half-chewed grape Harriet just handed me? I eat it.
I use the Nose Frida without a filter, and the other day when my boys were desperately congested and I couldn't find the Nose Frida anywhere, I just sucked that gunk out using the classic mouth-to-nose method and spit it in the sink. Would I do it to someone else? No way. But my own kids? I can't think of anything they could ever do that would gross me out.
|I mean, what could possibly be gross about these sweet boys? Well, a lot. They are boys, after all.|
But you know what? I do have one weakness. It's my kryptonite.
I cannot handle hair.
I'm eating right now...of course I am...and just typing the word "hair" made me gag a little bit. Now I'm putting the food back in the fridge. Totally lost my appetite.
Remember how I said that I didn't flinch when Harriet handed me a piece of poop from the bathtub? Well, a few weeks before that, she lifted a piece of my own hair out of her tub and said, "Here, Mom." Not only did I not take it from her. I couldn't even be in the bathroom with her when she was holding it. I just stood outside the open door and tried not to gag. Then she started pretending it was a fish.
Okay, I have to be done with that story.
Back to gross stuff that isn't hair...This past summer, Harriet and I were playing at the park and her hands were full of dirt. Well, it was actually more like mud. She was kind of freaking out because she likes to be clean and we didn't have any wet wipes with us, so I told her to just wipe her hands on my pants. She refused and started to whimper a bit. I couldn't convince her to wipe her hands on my jeans until I said, "Hon, that's why moms wear clothes."
She had a look on her face like, "Well, in that case..." and soon her hands were clean...relatively.
So I may not be very good at hosting epic birthday parties, getting my kids to love beets or organizing a seamless toy rotation schedule. But if muck and mess and bodily fluids are involved...step aside, ladies.
I got this.