Well, sometimes there might be a tiny drop of sunscreen or a splatter of toothpaste… but I’m relatively grime-free.
And this I feel is cause for celebration.
A milestone if you will.
For those of you who think I’m someone who’s just graduated from wearing bibs… a clarification.
I’m not a grub… but a mum – which translates as a creature upon which babies and small children drool, vomit, poo, and wee: a creature which has every substance known to mankind, wiped and spilt upon them.
These events happen randomly – though with great consistency… and usually at the most inconvenient of times.
But now, with the small fry aged 7 and 5, I’ve suddenly realised they are so no longer mucky with mum.
As for their treatment of the kitchen bench, walls and floors – well, that’s another story. Let’s just say I’m working on that.
But so far, we have success. I am free of sticky smears.
For years I endured it all.
There were days where I headed out to work with the contents of a baby’s milky burp dribbled down the back of my black jacket, jammy finger marks on my silk blouse, and yoghurt kisses on my skirt.
And they’re minor infringements.
The around-the-house clothes copped a hell of a lot more.
Countless t-shirts, shorts, and jeans have been destroyed by unidentifiable child-produced grime.At first, it concerned me. I was a person who liked to be well presented.
Then, living with muck became commonplace. So commonplace, that when choosing clothes for the day, I’d pick out a t-shirt with the fewest stains… because one without stains did not exist.
As for pyjamas… well, there were definitely times when, in a sleep-deprived stupor, I would stumble back to bed with all manner of baby-related gunk on those.
You see, when faced with the choice of a few extra minutes of shut-eye at 2am (after months of sleep deprivation)– or the option of a clean flannelette night shirt - the sleep always won out.
I mean what’s a bit of baby-pee between family members?
I remember telling this to some DINKS (double income no kids) a few years back… and immediately regretted it.
The look of horror in their eyes. The disgust in the way they curled their lip. The way they recoiled from me as if I had some kind of contagious disease.
Hmmmm, I learned that day that certain comments shouldn’t be said in front of the childless.
But isn’t it funny the way things work out?
The DINKS have small fry now.
And guess who’s been wearing `snotty nose smear’ out and about lately?
Not me!Follow Sally on Twitter @SallyEeles
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