What Success Means To Me

Did you ever have to write that essay in school about What Success Means to You?  I think we all had to write that.  I'm not going to write about success today.  Today I am going to write about what "Gross" means to me.  What I realized from motherhood is that my definition of "gross"-- much like one's definition of success-- has changed significantly over time.  Specifically in the past 8 months.  No, make that the last 17 months.

The thing is, I don't know what is actually gross anymore.  Its really hard to gross me out these days.  Ok moldy food will still do it every time, but I realized that since pregnancy began and AJ was born, there is really very little that makes me say "ew".

Here are some things that I cannot believe I now find even marginally acceptable:

• When I leave the house to run an errand and realize I have a spit up stain on my shoulder.  
• And then keep going.
• Wiping drool off of AJs chin/face/hands/clothes with my bare hands
• And then wiping it on my clothes
• Literally picking the boogers out of his nose when there is a crusty one stuck to the edge
• Describing "crusty boogers" stuck to the edge of a nose
• The very many--and precise-- adjectives I use to describe poop. 
• In public
• Not necessarily using my inside voice
• The long drip of milk that has dried on AJs wall next to his glider that I keep forgetting to wash off.

These things are just part of life now, and I can't not smile at them.  And aside from my clothes not looking so pristine, and the fact that you may not want to shake my hand anymore, I guess I figure, he is a baby, how yucky can his stuff really be? Some day he will be move into real boyhood, with dirt and worms and smelly [insert sport here] gear.  And then I think I will have a new definition of gross once again.

AJ was here

I have the legs of a 7 year old.  I literally think that 7 year old Danielle actually had FEWER bruises on her legs than I do now, and that's saying something because I was one clumsy kid.  From the knees down, my shins are littered with black and blues in various stages of purple.  I guess this is from crawling around on the floor with AJ and accidentally landing on his toys.
The best, though, are the tiny almost perfectly circular bruises that I have on my upper thighs.  One might wonder how one gets tiny almost perfectly circular bruises on one's upper thighs...  My son has very pointy toes and he loves to stand up when he is on my lap.
I still feed him in the glider, which sits next to a window.  After he is about 80% done with each bottle he takes a little break.  On his break he climbs up mommy and stands, toes pointed, on my lap, his little arms perched on the windowsill.  Its adorable really.  He gets into that position then smiles like a proud little monkey and he bang bang bangs his hands on the windowsill and the window.  He stares at the trees, maybe he sees a little of his reflection too.  Bottom line, he loves it and the kid seriously thinks he can walk.  I keep asking him, as he gets fingerprints all over the window, if he is planing his escape route.  I'm on to you little buddy!

Am I alone in this?

Do other moms forget to pee?  Because I seriously can go all day without peeing, especially on busy AJ filled weekends.  Its like I'm hopping from one thing to the next, ignoring critical body signals like hunger, thirst, and bladder relief.  Then he goes to sleep and I'm like holy moly I'm about to explode.  I can't be the only one.