January 16th...
Picture day--success.
Ava's birthday party--success.
Midnight the same night--the cradle was rocked--violently.
I have always known that I don't "do" puke. It's gross. I thought that when I became a mom that things would change. At least, that's what everyone told me. "It's different when it's your own child." Sorry people, but that is a bunch of BS. Puke is puke, no matter if it is your kid's or the kid of someone else, it is still gross. Seriously gross. And to all of the people that told me that I would be able to handle it when it was "my own kid, " I would like to say, you were wrong. It still smells like bile, it still makes a huge mess, and it still DID NOT prevent me from gagging each and every time until it happened to me too.
So to all the moms that like to tell people stories about how gross things aren't really gross if it is your own kid, please stop. You are not helping anyone with your little white lies. Thank you.
God help me if there is ever a broken bone or mass quantities of blood. We will all be in trouble.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment