YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS

Ive been thinking a lot about love lately. What does it mean to truly love someone. When you have a child you are automatically bonded to them, but is that what makes you love them? When do you know?

Well I thought I knew that I loved my child, that is until last night. No, I didn't decide that I no longer love the little monster that has been destroying my home and terrorizing my birds for the last 17 months. There have been times when my love has been put to the test (these times have usually occurred in Walmart around 3:30 pm on a long day and involve eggs being thrown out of the cart and packages of hot dogs being gnawed into). If I thought that having my cell phone drowned in the toilet or my makeup hidden for three days was bad, last night put them all to shame.


Last night my child woke up at midnight screaming. This is not usual so I decided to lay him in between my husband and myself on our bed. The next thing I remember I was being puked on again, and again, and again. Now this is going to gross you out, but have you ever seen milk that has spent all day in the sun curdling, fermenting, turning into a thick solid cottage cheese like substance. Now take it one step further have you ever smelled it? Has it ever been violently barfed on you repeatedly. If so, you know what love is. My husband who was convulsing because of the smell, grabbed the child and threw him in the tub leaving me to clean up the mess. I have no clue where all the vomit came from; he must have been packing some of it in his diaper, and hiding the rest in those adorable chubby cheeks of his, because he managed to cover 4 pillows, our coverlet, fitted sheet, flat sheet, down comforter, duvet, padded bedding thing (I know I sound like I'm selling bed sets at Bed Bath and Beyond) but really, he got the bed set and all the extra amenities. He got everything except the mattress and that's because despite everyone making bed wetting comments to me, I purchased plastic sheet covers for my mattress. Why you ask. Think so pregnant you can't get out of the bed in the middle of the night--now you understand the plastic sheets--and if you haven't had the joy of wetting yourself recently, just wait, you'll get yours soon enough sister.

So at 1am I drag all of my bedding to my laundry room and start the wash. At this point my son is sitting in the bathtub dipping his toothbrush into bath water and then chewing on it, because my husband thinks his breath stinks and the best thing to do is hand the one year old his toothbrush and let him clean up his own mess. My husband dresses the child and we try to figure out what to do now that we are bedless and our room needs fumigated for at least 24 hours before reentry can occur. I end up on the floor in my son's bedroom, but because mommy is laying on his floor he thinks he needs to be with me. So we both end up on the floor with a couch pillow and eggcrate pad. I sleep little and arise to find my face plastered to a dresser and someone doing "bouncies" on my pelvis, jabbing his finger in my nose, screaming mommy and laughing.

So do you think you love someone? I bet you do, but until you've wiped their poopy butt, changed their diaper, and wiped their vomit off your face, and I'm not talking just about babies, you probably don't realize the lengths to which you are humanly capable of loving something that is so disgusting and foul.
So Mazal Tov and good night!