Motherhood: How Your Gag Reflex Changes

I’ve been shit on, puked on and lastly, peed on. My first experience was when I brought home my adorable newborn. Unbeknownst to me, apparently when the cold hits their lil’ peepee, it’s weewee time. I remember the first time. My mother in law had set up the pack and play in our living room (which I find although efficient, completely obnoxious. The pack n play, not my mother in law). I went to change P, taking off his little sailor outfit because he’s gay. All of a sudden, his pee shot up 7″.

“Oh shit!” I said, delicately cupping the fountain, now getting it all over my bundle of joy. Like any male adult, my son was oblivious as he sucked on his fist. I then learned about wee wee tee pees which essentially just made my son piss all over himself. Good thought but ineffective.

Then P had Rotavirus. Have you ever smelled Rotavirus? Let me paint you a picture with an imaginary recipe:

• 1 ounce shit from a 600 lb man
• 2 teaspoons bad breath
• 1/2 cup diced onion
• 2.5 pounds of 30 day old boneless, skinless, chicken breast

Combine in medium baking dish. Cook at 350 for 1 hour or until your’e ready to vomit. Rotavirus has the amazing ability to make you heave on que when spelling it. Apparently now there is an immunization for it now. My guess is a mother smelled it, dropped what she was doing and went straight to the lab to eradicate the shit out of that…well….shit.

And the farts. Let’s talk farts. My youngest farts so much that a few days ago, he farted for like 10 seconds while telling me a story.

“I’m sorry but have you been farting this whole time?”

“Yep!” He said giggling, proud of his accomplishment.

This child farts talking, at dinner, watching tv, in his sleep, in the shower, in the car, outside and inside. I already asked twice today if he farted to both he answered yes. The oldest shows restraint thank God.

And lastly, I want to discuss uniforms and cleats. My stomach turns just thinking about it. Maybe the stench smells differently for each person but to me it smells like sour pine. I mean, P will be sitting in the back of the car and when we ask him to get his cleats on because we are close to the field, I know the exact minute he unzips his backpack as the SUV is filled with this vile stench. I really can’t describe it. It’s so pungent.

So that’s where I’m at as a mom. I’ll be real, I will loose my breakfast the day I go to do my oldest’s laundry and his boxers are wet and it’s not from sweat, piss or a spilled drink. I think that will be the moment I run into my bathroom, turn the water to scalding hot and hop in with closthes on. I’ll frantically scrub myself down, crying “why….why…..”