About 5 years ago, before Gray was even a thought that crossed my mind, I watched a co-worker kiss her slobber-laden child right on the mouth. I remember a thin strand of drool clung to her lip as she pulled away. I couldn’t hide my disgust. “Just wait,” she assured me. “It won’t seem so gross when you have your own.” I wasn’t convinced. Babies weren’t yet my thing. They just seemed like sticky, smelly aliens to me at that time. But she was right. Just a few short years have passed, and I’ve done much grosser things than kiss a wet baby mouth. Here are just a few of those things:
1. Catch poop with my bare hands.
2. Eat an entire meal in under a minute. On the toilet.
3. Regularly wet my pants while sneezing, coughing, or laughing.
4. Lick a person’s face clean.
5. Think a fart is cute.
6. Let my husband see me poop. (This only happened once, and it was during childbirth—I swear!)
7. Spend the better part of a day with someone else’s urine on my clothes.
8. Have my nipples bitten.
9. Get excited about a burp.
10. Eat food that fell out of someone’s mouth.
11. Pull my boobs out in a toy store.
12. Try breast milk.
13. Carry poo around in my purse.
14. Wipe up snot with my shirt.
15. Sniff a butt.
So, yes, I’ve done some pretty sick stuff since Gray came along. It somehow just doesn’t seem so gross anymore. I’ve also done some pretty lame new things—like choose sleep over sex for an entire month and go to bed at 10 pm on New Years Eve. I’m not the same person I was before him. I can honestly say that I love this gross, lame life I’m living. I’ve never been happier or loved anyone this insanely much. And I’ve learned to never say never.