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Dirty Jobs

This evening after bathing my son I had to contend with him for over 20 minutes just to put his diaper and pajamas on. We spent over 30 minutes of him flipping his bare hiney around, giggling and laughing all from the joy of watching mommy struggle to place just one foot into his comic pj’s. PJ’s that were purchased just a week ago and are already starting to become out grown I may add. I finally won the battle of dressing an infant and walked back into my tornado ran through living room. Actually there was no tornado, only the remnants of torn apart magazines, Fisher Price toys and every other thing that my tiny 10 month old can get his little hands on. Things that makes absolutely no noise, are not colorful, and doesn’t move, speak or walk. Basically everything that does not belong to him such as daddy’s $60 Playstation controller. Odd how you buy them all the toys in the world and yet they’d rather play with the simplest things like a bottle of Nestle water. Anyway after stepping over Rick the stuffed orangutan
(thanks Uncle Steve), I made it to the couch to rest my aching body. The rest didn’t last too long thanks to the foul stench of carrot vomit that was gifted to me on the baby gate/carpet an hour before. After wiping the gate down I sat back on the sofa and started flipping through channels with the remote that is missing the battery cover (my son loves to play with the remote also). I came across a show called “Dirty Jobs”. I laughed softly to myself and thought “please you think your job is dirty buddy, try cleaning puke and doo doo on a everyday basis”. I thought about the long, slimy booger that randomly appeared on my hand after bathing my son tonight. I thought about the vomit that my son had laid in my lap, hands, hair, mouth (yea, mouth), carpet, couch, bed, feet and pretty much everywhere his little body roamed. Or how about all of the times I’ve been pee’d and pooped on, or when I decide to be nice and share my food (as If I sustain a choice) and I get back a spoon full of slobber in return. The loud farts in my hand while carrying him (some of which in public), the burps in my face and all of the times my son decides to wipe his face onto my shirt while I’m trying to feed him. This is just half of the dirty job I deal with and I’m sure there are more to come. But after everything, every unimaginable thing I can possibly go through this little face looks up at me with the cutest expression and smiles. He hugs me in the morning, gets excited when he sees me after a long day at work. Stares at me and places his little hand on the side of my face. Cuddles up next to me when he sleeps. Reaches for me. After everything I go through being a mom, well just being a mom makes it entirely worth it…

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