The Mom from the Black Lagoon

I have two kids and I’m turning into one of those moms.

You know, the kind that eat the food that their toddler has previously drooled.
I am becoming the kind of mom that thinks cold spittle covered food is acceptable eats.

I’m not there just yet, but already I’ve seen the signs.

I consider yellow slimy baby poop the “good kind of poop”. The idea that there is a good kind of poop is strictly a parent thought. I don’t even feel the extreme rushing need to wash my hands following a diaper change. Maybe, theoretically, I don’t even wash my hands. Theoretically. Because it was the good kind of poop.

While wearing my nice clothes I get barfed on. Chunky milk barf. Do I change? No. I just rub it in so you can’t see the chunks.

In basketball shorts all day? Good enough.

Let the girl backwash in my water? No problem.

Put my hair in a bun instead of brushing it? Always.

Dropped the pacifier on the public bathroom floor? Yes.

I’m turning into the snot-covered, drag-all-my-kids-to-the-grocery-store, didn’t-even-notice-he-was-poopy kind of mom.

You may want to buy yourself a bottle of hand sanitizer before I have #3.