The Ten Grossest Things My Kids Do

Kids can be disgusting.  Adorable too, of course, but still pretty gross.  At least, I know mine are.  If you’d like to claim that yours aren’t, then either take them back to their home planet or shut up and quit lying.  So here’s a little list I made detailing some of the yuckiest stuff they do.  It’s only ten items long, but I’m sure you could add at least ten more based on your own child’s less-than-civilized undertakings.

This entry is not for the faint-of-heart, but then again, neither is parenthood.  So if you fall into the category of people who simply cannot discuss peeing, pooping, throwing up, spitting up, or any other undesirable thing that comes out of your child, then feel free to click over to Facebook now and read someone else’s horoscope or something.  And while you’re at it, maybe see if you can find ANYONE ELSE to raise your kids, ya big p-word.

1. The In-Your Face Sneeze – It doesn’t matter how many times you remind your kids to sneeze into a tissue, or a napkin, or their sleeve, or even their hand (GASP! how politically incorrect of me!), you surely have found yourself on the receiving end of the in-your-face sneeze more than a few times.  Now, I’m not a big fan of being sneezed on, but when it’s my own kid it’s not really a big deal.  However, I take issue with the in-your-face sneeze when: 1- I’m eating, and the in-your-face sneeze becomes the in-your-lunch sneeze; 2- I’m wearing my glasses, and I have to pause whatever I’m doing to clean streaks of mucus off of the lenses; and 3- the sneezing child is sick, and an innocent little sneeze is followed by another, and another, and one more, and then out shoots the long, dangling strand of snot headed straight for your bare foot.

2. Booger Presents – Since we’re already on the subject of things that originate in the nasal passage… Isn’t it just so awesome when your child HANDS YOU A BOOGER?  This is a favorite pastime for my two-year-old daughter, who often likes to dig a pinky or pointer in her tiny little honker to extract the largest green boulder she can find up there, then proudly hand it off to me, smiling like a cat who just left a dead bird on its owner’s kitchen table.

3. Floating Poop in the Tub – I actually had to limit my daughter’s tub time to no longer than five minutes for a while because she was constantly contaminating the bath water.   One time I left the room to grab a wash cloth and returned to find her splashing around with her new, brown, homemade tub toys.  Just what every mom wants to do after putting the kids to bed: scrub down the entire bathroom with bleach.  So….we do showers now.

4. Spit Out Food – Unless you’re a baby bird, or Alicia Silverstone (20 years post Clueless), there is NOTHING attractive about chewed-up food.  When adults taste something we dislike, we either choke it down and guzzle the nearest beverage, or at least have the decency to discreetly spit it into a napkin (I know, I know – that’s what she said).  But heaven forbid a tiny piece of lettuce should find its way onto your unsuspecting child’s chicken nugget, somehow sliding under the FBI-level radar of your little picky eater, you should prepare for the most theatrical of mock-regurgitations.  And if you’re really lucky, little Fido will scamper over to indulge in any bits and pieces that have found their way to the floor.  Seriously, you’re lucky if that happens- it’s less for you to clean up.

5. Peanut Butter Face – Also known as ice cream face, chocolate face, jelly face, ketchup face, yogurt face, and pasta sauce face.  But isn’t it just so cute to watch them enjoying their meals?  Sometimes the food even ends up IN their mouth!  And you can whip out the iPhone and capture every gloriously messy moment on video!  Yup, it’s all fun and games until someone’s gotta clean that little mofo up.  And let’s face it, the cuter the picture, the more baby wipes you’re gonna need.

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Okay, I admit that this wasn’t the messiest baby picture I could find, but it was too cute to pass up!

6. Eat Random Shit – My daughter is SO PICKY.  Some days I’m lucky if I can get her to eat more than a pretzel and a slice of cheese all day.  Yet, for some reason, she will eat absolutely ANYTHING she finds on the floor.  Old Cheerios?  Yum. Hardened Play-Doh scraps? Sure.  Tiny LEGOs?  Delish.  Dog food?  Bring it on.  And in addition to her prized culinary floor findings, she also enjoys a nice fingerful of glue every now and then, a direct-from-the-dispenser gulp of body lotion after a bath, and, of course, the colorful, waxy, scrumptiousness of anything Crayola.

7. Not Washing Hands After Poop – I’m as fond of good personal hygiene as the next mama, but if my kid forgets to wash his hands after a tinkle, I’m not exactly going to flip my lid.  However, do NOT let me find out he did a number two in that bowl and failed to wash his hands afterward.  That is just plain disgusting.  Because it was only less than a year ago that “I’m DOING COCKY, COME WIPE MY BUTTTTTTTTT!” was a daily shriek heard from inside the bathroom.  Thank GOD that shit is over with now (pun intended), but you can never be too sure how perfectly this task is performed by an amateur wiper. 

8. Sand Crotch – Is there any feeling NASTIER than sand when it’s, well, pretty much anywhere sand isn’t supposed to be…?  It’s funny how people go to the beach, a place with only two components – sand and water – and then spend the entire day trying to avoid touching a single grain of sand?  Not kids, though.  Kids LOVE sand.  The sandier a child can be, the better.  In fact, I think these kids even secretly compete with each other to see who can transfer the most sand from the beach to the car, with bonus points for any sand that makes it into the house.  My kids never fail to go directly from the water to the sand, and from there right to the clean blanket.  And then- “I’m having fun, mommy!  Can I give you a HUG??” Uh, no thanks….

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Look mom! Sand shoes! Can I take them home?

9. Spit Up – I’m lucky, because my kids were never big spitter-uppers or big thrower-uppers.  But that didn’t stop my daughter from spitting up DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH once.  I suppose this one was my own fault, as common sense would dictate that you shouldn’t spin a recently-fed baby around in the air, even if she usually loves the airplane game.  But it was pretty damn gross, so it makes the list. 

10. Wet the Bed – I believe that those three little words accurately sum up my entire life since becoming a parent, as I have a FIVE year old who still wears a pull-up diaper to bed because he’s prone to nighttime accidents.  Soiled sheets and pajamas have simply become a routine part of my life – the faint, malodourous scent of stale urine seemingly following my every move, and the endless paranoia that I’ve somehow missed a yellow spot somewhere is always lurking in the back of my nose.  It’s quite unsettling.  And every time I think I trust him to start making it through the night, thinking I’m finally free from purchasing overpriced pull-up diapers and the 3a.m. fumbling around in the dark for clean pajamas, I always find myself knee-deep in piss-covered Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sheets all over again.  Such is the plight of a bed-wetter’s mom.

Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself? Bullsh*t!!

I have some “minor” anxiety issues, which may be apparent from my writing.  Some of you might have even noticed my affinity for Xanax, which I mention from time to time because it’s kind of awesome.  Someday I’ll write all about the time my anxiety caused me to have a real life nervous breakdown, and I’ll attempt to describe, as humorously as possible, what a living hell it sort of was. But it’s been about three years and I still haven’t found a single funny thing about the whole debacle (aside from the very fact that I had an actual nervous breakdown), so it may be a while before I tackle that one.

Today I’m talking about my more innocent fears.

Some of my fears are your typical, run-of-the-mill, boring things like death, rapists, and tsunamis.  But some of the other ones skew a bit irrational.  To be fair, some are rational but the severity of the phobia is so bad that it enters into irrational territory.  So I’ve listed a few of these anxieties here and divided them into two categories for your reading pleasure: Idiotically Irrational and Rational but Ridiculous.

I’m obviously way too amused by alliteration.

Idiotically Irrational Fears

Being bitten in the ass (or worse, somewhere else) by a giant toilet-dwelling snake.  I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve forgotten to put the bathroom light on in the middle of the night before sitting down and then waited, trembling, for a pair of fangs, dripping with poison, to clamp down (up?) and not let go.  I’m pretty sure it’s happened to someone, somewhere, at some point.  Talk about scaring the shit out of a person.

A tiger gets into my house and eats my dog.  Generally, the thought of any wild animal finding its way into one’s home would be horrifying.  But for some reason, I’ve actually had a nightmare about a tiger eating my dog in my living room. Twice.  I can’t say it’s likely that there are any dangerous safari animals roaming around Staten Island, but if there are I really hope they don’t have a thing for British Bulldogs.  Or people.

Undercooked chicken.  For some inexplicable reason, raw chicken meat gives me the heebie-jeebies.  Unfortunately, I really enjoy poultry.  Cooked poultry, that is.  So I still have to be around the raw stuff.  Whenever I make chicken, I tend to wash my hands until they bleed.  I also tend to cook the stupid chicken to like 200 degrees or so.  I don’t mean to overcook it, but the paranoia always sets in and I start freaking out that we’re all going to die from salmonella poisoning and before I know it we’re having rubber cutlet parmesan for dinner. And I’m all “bon appetit!” and Big M is all “where’s the can opener for the tuna fish?”

Forgetting to pull up my pants after using the bathroom.  Technically, this is impossible because even if I really didn’t bother to pull them up I’d surely notice that I was pantless at some point while washing my hands, right? Or, more likely, I’d actually FEEL like my pants were not fully on, right? Still, I can’t help but occasionally envision a rather unsettling situation wherein I hurriedly sprint off the bowl and out the door without ever thinking to pause and make sure that my ass isn’t exposed.  I once forgot to shut the door to pee while entertaining a house full of guests, so I suppose anything’s possible with the likes of me.  (And don’t you dare judge me for that until you have very young children and grow accustomed to leaving the bathroom door open in case someone notices mommy is missing for a minute and decides it’s a good time to feed the dog a chocolate bar or leap like Superman off of a very tall dresser.)

Rational But Ridiculous Fears 

My car breaks down and causes a major traffic jam.  The thought of my car breaking down, especially with young kids in the backseat, is scary enough as it is.  But the thought of being THAT CAR, the dreaded, infamous “stalled vehicle in the left lane” from the traffic report, is just too much to bear.  You know, my brother once broke down on a one-lane bridge. A ONE-LANE BRIDGE.  I don’t think I’d ever get behind the wheel again.

Fainting in public.  Here’s how nuts I am about this one: I will NEVER leave my house on an empty stomach.  EVER.  Today I shoved a peanut butter sandwich down my throat just to go pick up my son from school, and I wasn’t even hungry.   It’s not exactly a figure-friendly habit.  I am PETRIFIED of having some low-blood-sugar incident where throngs of people nearby start freaking out and thinking they just witnessed someone drop dead in front of their faces.  You can imagine what a blast this was to deal with after being diagnosed with gestational diabetes while I was pregnant with my daughter.  Blood sugar levels are such jerks.

Blackouts.  Just now, I asked Big M to help me name some of my bigger fears (yes, there are so many I needed help recalling everything I’m afraid of).  The first thing he said was “not being able to watch TV.” Oh, and then he said “you shouldn’t do this topic, hun, people are definitely going to think you are insane” Oh well!  My point is that I had just jotted down “blackouts- NO TV!!”  Television is just such a big addiction for me.  I know that’s terrible and not healthy and all that crap, but it’s a fact.  I can’t help it that television soothes my anxiety, even when it’s just functioning as background noise.  Plus, TV is awesome (have you SEEN Walking Dead?).  I need television.  It keeps me sane.  Well, it keeps me the kind of sane that allows me to merely imagine I might run out of a bathroom with my pants around my ankles—as opposed to actually doing it.

My children will someday be old enough to supervise themselves.  Although spending every waking moment of my life making sure my kids stay alive from one minute to the next sometimes feels like living inside my very own invisible, padlocked prison hell, there’s something even more disturbing about the fact that someday I won’t get knots in my stomach from not hearing a peep out of them for three whole minutes.  Because that means these kids will finally have the ability to go three minutes without accidentally killing themselves or each other, and then someday they will be old enough to go hours and hours without any supervision at all.  And while that sounds like a little slice of heaven at first, it’s actually a very, very scary thing.  While they might be old enough to understand that crossing the street always requires first looking both ways, I won’t be there all the time to ensure that they don’t wander directly into oncoming traffic– literally and figuratively speaking.  It freaks me out that someday my son might have a drink and then get behind the wheel of a car because I wasn’t there to grab his car keys and drag him home by his ear before he even thought about drinking and driving.  And what if one day my daughter gets pressured into having sex with some dickhead just because I wasn’t there to remind her that she is so much better than that, and then take a baseball bat to the douchbag’s precious little gonads?  Someday my kids will have to make smart decisions all on their own, and I know they aren’t going to get it right every single time.  I can’t stand that thought.  Perhaps, out of everything, that is the one thing that scares me most.

Well, that and getting bit in the ass by a toilet snake.

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