Friday, December 4, 2009

Like, Gag Me With A Spoon, For Sure...

When I was in school, boys thought gross things were cool.
Burps, farts and other bodily functions were pure gold and sure to get a big laugh. Vomit was awesome. And poop was the "big mack daddy" of them all.
As I got older, the boys turned to teen-agers, but their behavior didn't change much. They became aware of the fact that females, in general, did not share their enthusiasm for the whole icky mess. So they did turn it down a little in mixed company.
College males were even more sensitive to the fairer sex. But brought out their oh-so-disgusting "hobbies" and "games" when other males were around. I recall young men who would drink beer with the sole purpose of puking, so that they would have room for more beer. Yuck.

Something amazing happens when these very young men get married. Their inability to gross other males out on a regular basis takes away their ability to stomach it any more.
Suddenly, the more feminine sex is the one who has to handle all bodily fluids. When someone is sick, mom has to stand next to the "patient" with a bucket and a wet wash cloth. When baby poos in his diaper, mommy cleans up baby, and then cleans up the diapers, too.

This evening the cat threw up a hair ball. I calmly went over to clean it up. Hubby began retching at the mere sight. If I had thought I could actually torture hubby a little bit, I would have drawn it out a little longer, and even made some comments about texture, smell, etc.
But, ultimately, hubby would have heaved. And I would have had to clean that up, too.
The kids are keenly aware of this fact. If they are ill with anything that involves vomit, snot, poop or gas, they come to me.
Hubby can ask them, "Honey, what's wrong?"
They tell him nothing is wrong and come straight to me.
Maybe I should take that as a compliment. Maybe it's a mommy thing.
Either way, it is what it is, and I simply accept that I'm in charge of cat hair balls, doggy poop, stomach viruses, strep throat, snot, spit and other sundry and various forms of grossness manufactured by man and beast.

I will note that the exception to that is our physician(s). And I contend that they have maintained an uninterrupted exposure to the yucky stuff by nature of their work.

In our house, hubby and I have a deal: he takes care of snakes, and I take care of all the afore mentioned ickyness.
Oh, and spiders. I take care of spiders, too. I guess it can't all be fair...

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