1. Catch vomit. With my hands.
I used to be a strictly anti-ralphing sympathy puker who would do ANYTHING to avoid puke.
Oh poor hubby, you have the stomach flu? Good thing you can fit on the bathroom floor if you curl up into a fetal position and dislocate a shoulder or two! Here, let me get you a pillow.
Then kids happened. The moment I realized something had changed was the moment I rushed from the kitchen to the dining room (at my inlaw's house, of course) to catch G's puke in my bare hands.
And if that wasn't bad enough, I instinctively turned her little barfing body to face me like I had suddenly morphed into a fucking human ShamWow.
I had a good reason, though. It was spaghetti with sauce. We all know what red food does to carpet. Especially your inlaw's pristine moss green carpet.
I didn't really realize how incredibly gross it was until the kids' Papa started dry heaving and had to leave the room, but goddammit, I saved that carpet!
2. Smell another human's butt.
Like an animal. A cute baby animal. BUT STILL.
3. Wear clothes with spit up/breastmilk/boogers/dirt/other random stains on them.
Just keep a hoodie handy. If someone knocks on the door, you can immediately cover your filth and they (probably) won't run screaming or call the cops.
It's not bad until your husband kindly points out that you smell like cheese. >:|
4. Ignore the wet spots that magically appear on the floor.
I don't always do this, I promise. But sometimes it's just not worth sleuthing to determine the origin. I pray it's water, mutter urine is sterile ten times, and move on.
5. Wear the same clothes for dayyyyys.
Fall into bed in them, wake up in them, wear them all day, repeat. It's disgusting. And so very efficient when you have the equivalent of three little laundry slot machines running around your house.
6. Let my children subsist on a daily diet of three graham crackers, one piece of cheese, and 16 raisins.
I believe in a balanced diet, I do. And maybe in 15-18 years, my kids will, too. Until that time, I'm just going to keep trying to convince them that boogers are NOT a food group.
7. Ignore the gigantic fruit juice spill on the floor ... and the masses of dog hair sticking to it.
It's attracting dog hair, therefore it is good. Kind of like a dog hair sticky paper trap. It's basically cleaning your floor for you. Who doesn't want that? Deny my logic, I dare you.
8. Let the kids dress themselves.
This is actually a pretty recent development and I feel like an idiot for not giving in sooner. I love to see their, let's say, creativity. I love it even more when they explain to me why they can totally wear underwear, a belt, one cowboy boot, one slipper and a 20 year old sun hat outside in the dead of winter.
9. Let them run around 90 percent naked.
If you come to my house, you're probably going to see half-naked creatures running around hitting things with sticks, climbing all over furniture, yelling in a language you don't understand, and eating random things off the floor.
I'm either conducting an anthropological study on members of some recently-discovered jungle tribe ... or my kids are awake.
10. Let my house be an utter disaster.
If there is a clear path to the bathroom, we're golden. And if by some sorcery/blood sacrifice at least one room in the house looks almost presentable, I eat a pint of ice cream in celebration.
11. Let them take apart the couch. Every. Single. Day.
This is a weird one and probably (maybe?) not very common. I swore when we got a nice sofa I would never let them do it. But then one day the pile of cushions became a pirate ship and I thought it was probably actually a really good idea to let them destroy the couch if it was helping their imaginations because it's not like I am staying on top of "structured learning". Ahahahahahaha.
(Right now you might be wondering why this would be classified as "disgusting". Look under my couch cushions the next time you come over and you'll know.)
12. Forget their names.
"TAGRAHERKELCHA ... LEN! Get your butt over here!"
It's horrible and awful and also it's a really good idea to have all your kids' monikers end in the same syllable because that way they probably won't even notice their own mother can't remember their name.
I do still have standards, though. A whole two of them.
Things I Still Won't Do
1. Drink after a toddler. If you do this, you need to let them drink out of a clear glass and then observe the sludge that collects at the bottom. You will never do it again.
2. Hold babies above my head 1) after they've eaten or 2) if they're teething. Never again.
How have your children blown through your former standards of basic hygiene and self-respect?