Love is....
...wiping runny poo off your child's legs and back at 2am while singing Bingo to keep them from freaking and you from vomiting.
...rising pre-dawn to lie down with your child and make each and every animal on their bed speak to him with a distinct voice, accent, gender and possible sexual orientation.
...watching "Put Down the Ducky" for the 17th time and feigning the same amusement you experienced the first time you saw Martina Navritalova sing "put down the ducky."
...diving on the remote to keep him from discovering Pure Evil: Barney.
...holding your child to your chest and rocking her even though you know there is an excellent chance that she is about to vomit Annie's Organic Mac'n'Cheese on your Michael Kohrs pants that make your ass look OH SO GOOD or even your favorite ratty fat pants, without which you'd be nearly suicidal at least once a month for three days.
...delicately dipping deep into your child's ear with your pinky to remove the most disgusting, fat pearl of red ear wax ever seen In The Whole History of the Earth because you once heard a rumor about a kid who was brain damaged by a Q-tip wielded by her mother. And you're concerned it might have been YOUR mother.
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1 comment:
YES. For me, yesterday, love was letting your son puke in your hands for the 5th time in a row. Wait- let me rephrase that -puking in my hands which spilled over onto my sexy jeans and then later my ratty fat jeans.
And I said to my husband -with true sincerity- I love taking care of Will when he's sick.
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