The other day, I just happened to catch a glimpse of my 6-year-old wiping her vulva on a hand towel… in the guest bathroom… where people dry their hands on hand towels. Barf. Vomit. Puke.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
She looked at me, face scrunched up like a sassy tween and whined that there was no more toilet paper. Satisfied with her response, she turned on her heel and went back to the important business of playing, leaving me there thinking about how disgusting kids are.
Over the years, I’ve witnessed unspeakable shit; vomit-inducing, nausea-causing and down-right disgusting acts of hideousness. The fear of god is in me, I’m terrified of sitting on other people’s couches, toilets and car seats for fear of what horror lurks in the shadows.
Nose-picking is a no-brainer. Every person on this earth has picked their nose, and I’m totally ok with that. It’s the devouring of slimy, juicy, brainteaser boogers that has my breakfast gurgling up. I’ve seen kids slurp down snotty boogs, measuring 1 inch in length, hanging from their finger like a dead sardine. You’d think they’d just caught a prize fish after hours of deep sea fishing… I can’t take it. It’s too awful.
Kids are busy people – taking time out of their packed schedules to drop a deuce can be cumbersome and inconvenient. Many children will opt to drop drawer right in the middle of what they’re doing, hunker down and take a steaming sasky. Be it in the grass, in the sandbox, maybe even in their own pants… They just don’t give a fuck about danglers, dingle-berries and skidders, not to mention the occasional clump of poo that smears down their inner thigh. They play on as if it’s just another day in paradise. God, I want to vomit. As a parent, you might get really lucky and witness your dog making a snack of your child’s byproduct… Zero clean-up for you, but at what price? Nightmares might plague you for weeks on end. You are screwed.
Speaking of poo, let us examine the bathroom habits of our children. Flushing is precarious, contaminated toilet seats are obligatory and every inch of the floor within a 3-foot zone of the toilet is potentially littered with bodily function. I’ve already witnessed the defiling of a hand towel, I’ve encountered a lingering and mysterious pee stench that will not leave and every toilet in our domicile houses its very own groundhog of shit, peeping up from its metaphorical hole in the ground. I’ve started charging 1 dollar per abandoned butt-dumpling and the problem seems to be abating, but dammit if I’m not scarred for life.
The vehicles of people with kids are a sight to behold. Whenever we have an adult guest in our car that warrants removing a car seat, I burn with the shame of a thousand suns. What person allows their car to become a graveyard for rotting apple cores and dirty socks? Spurts of dried up apple squeezer cling to the leather seats, granola bars mashed into the carpet – we even have smoothie sprayed across the ceiling upholstery that’s been there for 15 fucking months! I’m outmanned. Powerless over the army of filth generated by two little girls.
The question is, at what point do these little people shift perspective and stop being so gross? I know adults are gross too – do I smell my own vagina once in a while? Yes. Do I pick my nose and wipe it on the floor mat of my minivan? You bet. But the point is, at some juncture, I became concerned with the cleanliness of my butt, with washing my hands and leaving the spaces I occupy unscathed.
Is it a gradual process? Maybe two months into their 3rd grade year they’ll start to feel ashamed of eating their oyster-like boogers. Perhaps they are late to the game and only become concerned with the impression they make as they seek out a sexual partner; swamp-ass will not get you laid.
Whenever it is, I so look forward to this arbitrary day – the day when I can run my hand over the smooth fabric of my favourite couch without fear of a crusty encounter. A splatter-free toilet, glistening like a royal throne beckons to me in dreams. For now, I will make do with the chaos of kids and the wake of filth they leave behind. Their hands are dirty, but their love is sweet – a price I’ll pay to soak in the sweetness of my babies.
thank you – this was just what I needed!! laughed til I cried.
I’m glad to be childfree and living in a perfect, unsullied house. Great article. It *literally* made me sick!