Tag Archives: gross mommy stories

The Ultimate Throw Up Story

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If the title wasn’t enough of a spoiler alert for you, I caution those with weak stomaches to… not become a mother.  This is a true story.  None of the names have been changed to protect the guilty.  Nothing has been exaggerated, though time has been slowed down so that we can fully appreciate the gory details in word form.  I repeat:  this is a true story.

This last weekend I played a role that I am not very good at playing… I was a nurse for my sick husband.  I admit that I am generally very unsympathetic to his complaints because I hold the ultimate trump card- Child Birth.  Once you’ve given birth to a baby, no complaint of pain can actually compare.  And I’ve given birth 3 times.  So I sort of feel like slapping anyone who whimpers or whines about a tummy ache.  I’m not a good nurse.

But apparently he really was sick because he did not make it to the toilet the first time he projectile vomited from the bathroom door in the direction of the commode.  I had already warned him that as soon as he was finished defiling the toilet that he would be required to scrub it out too.  But that threat had yet to come to fruition.  I was very self-serving in my motivation to actually clean the bathroom myself.  I needed to go potty and I didn’t want to do my business in a vat of puke.  So I relented and began washing down the walls of the bathroom.

As I contorted and twisted to reach behind the toilet… yes it was necessary… I tried to remember the last time I had cleaned back there.  Then I remembered.  Oh and I wish I could forget the night of the great “Barf-O-Rama”.

I heard the wretching all the way from my bedroom.  I had been in a dead sleep, but suddenly I was electrified with adrenaline, on my feet and running into my children’s bedroom hollering “NOOOOOOO!”  But I was too late.  The little one had just coughed and barfed on her own pillow and mattress.  Ugh.  I hate stripping the beds in the middle of the night.  Figuring that she was probably empty, I moved Lucy into her sister’s bed so I could clean her bed.

I had just returned from the laundry room downstairs when I heard it again, that juicy, choking cough that had produced the first bed shellacking.  “OH NO!  Not on your sister!”  I mentally gasped as I sprinted up the last few steps.  I entered the room in time to see Lucy sit up and turn toward the far side of the bed and once again yak… in her sister’s bed, down the wall and onto the floor.  I couldn’t believe it!  Two beds ruined in one night!

At this point, the odor in the house was putrid.  As I considered how many candles I could safely light, I moved Emma onto the couch in my room.  And because I didn’t know what else to do with Lucy, I stupidly put her into my own bed just while I stripped the second bed.  We now officially had no extra blankets clean.

As I was scrubbing the mattresses in the girls’ room, I heard it again… that horrible hacking cough.  This time, I thought, I’m going to get her into the bathroom or at least onto the tile floor before she throws up.  I ran at full speed into my bedroom, catapulting over the pile of dirty bedding in the hallway.  As I slid stocking foot up to my side of the bed, Lucy sat up and reached for me… still gagging.  I actually shouted, “NOOOOOOOOO!”  in the very same moment that I received a face full of projectile vomit… and it went right into my O shaped mouth!

I spun around on my heel and ran to the bathroom, but I didn’t make it.  I threw up on myself as I crossed the threshold of the shower.  Since I was now covered with two forms of puke, I decided to just turn the shower on and start cleaning myself while fully clothed.  I just couldn’t bring myself to pull a dirty t-shirt over my head.  I stood in the shower crying while Lucy sat in her puddle of vomit on my bed also crying.  My husband woke up at this point… yeah, just now… and surveyed the shock-and-awe with horror in his eyes.  “What do you want me to do?” he meekly asked.  I didn’t even know where to begin.

So this was the last time that I had to actually stick my hand behind the toilet to clean back there.  I am thankful that those moments don’t come around very often.  If they did, I would definitely consider going on strike and demanding more money for this job.  Motherhood is not for the weak stomached nor for the heavy sleepers… that job is called Fatherhood.

How can anyone hold THIS all together?

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A while ago I got an email from a friend of mine in Montana who wondered if I needed more ammo for my “Gross Mommy Stories”.   She sent me this tale of her own personal version of the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day.  Seriously, under these conditions how could any mother be expected to hold it all together.  Don’t even mention being “Christ-like”  I’m sure Christ never had to clean up so many bodily fluids in one day.  So here’s Noelle’s family scene:

Gizelle got up fairly early this morning.  Mark just let her go out and watch some TV, but didn’t change her diaper.  When I got up almost 2 hourrs later, I found her in Addie’s room, and she was starting to take off her jammies.  She was taking them off because she had just peed through everything and it must’ve felt quite uncomfortable.  I couldn’t believe the puddle of urine on Addie’s carpet! Ugh!  (she’s been on an antibiotic for 10 days, so it smells SUPER gross!)  So, I got out the vinegar, towels, etc and spent quite a while cleaning carpet.

Next I watch Addie walk right into Gizelle’s cashew’s which are nicely placed on the floor in the middle of footpath (I just vacuumed, and washed that floor last night).  Sigh.

shoes2Then I took the kids on a long walk/ride/run.  Almost 2 hrs later,  we are finally on our street, when Ezekiel announces he has to use the restroom. Super, we’re almost home, so I tell him to go on ahead and use the restroom.  I dilly-dally and talk to our neighbors, then walk on home.  When I get home he’s outside playing, but he suddenly runs inside FAST.  A few minutes I go inside and see him in his room putting on different shorts.  Didn’t think much of it, because he loves to change into his swimsuit any chance he gets.  Then I go into the bathroom and see the pile of wet shorts, underwear and a HUGE puddle in the corner of the floor! I have no clue how he had that much in his bladder!!  Of course, I had also just scrubbed the bathrooms and the floors on my hands and knees last night as well.  Why didn’t he go straight home and nicely use the restroom!  I asked him about said mess and he said “I peed UP and it did that”… hmmm?  What does THAT mean?  (Please don’t laugh at that last comment, because he doesn’t deserve any mercy yet).

Next I take a quick shower because I want to go to Garden of Readin for a book signing for Janice Thompson.  It ends at 2pm, and it’s 12:54 when I get in the shower, so time to CRUISE!  I get out, get dressed and then work on getting everyone clothed.  I tell everyone to get in the car and get seat belts on.  Then notice Gizelle has a yucky, full diaper.  So I put her on the toilet and run to get her clothes.  I’m ready to go with only a few minutes to spare.  When I go out, I see that nobody is in the car with their seatbelts on.  

bubble-catcher_lCaleb’s driving the JEEP around and I tell him to stop now please.  He continues driving, so I tell him louder to “stop please!” Still ignores me, so I go tell him to go into him room.  I give him a swat for both disobedience with not getting in the car and not stopping the JEEP.  He’s already been disciplined today because he was being so unkind all day!  He stomps off and shoves his hand at the door in a huff,  Well, his height is a bit “wrong” for that screen door because when he pushed his hand hard into the door, his hand went right threw the glass!!!! He just broke our front door!  The door popped back at him since his hand went threw it and hit him on the face.  He got a little bloody nose!  So he was really crying hard (mostly scared about all the shattered glass around him)  No cuts on his hands or anything.  

In the end, I took all 4 kids with me because Mark needed to do some chain-sawing and thought it best to NOT be supervising kids while doing that.  With the way our day was going, I thought this was a VERY good idea.

spilt-tea-1_lSo, we made it to the book signing, then I took the kids to Safeway because we still have some Starbucks cards from Easter.  I thought it’d be fun to have a little drink and get a couple sandwiches for the kids to share since nobody really had lunch yet.  We get our drinks, then grab some sandwiches from the deli.  I tell them they can choose a box of fruit snacks.  So as we’re heading that way, Caleb drops his whole hot chocolate!! What a mess! Then Zekers promptly drops his cup into the mess too!  As I bend down to get his cup, my keys fly out of my purse into the puddle as well.  UGH!  So we humbly apologize to the nice lady who comes to clean up the mess, choose some fruit snacks, the go to the check-out.  Where AGAIN Ezekiel drops his hot chocolate.  He’s always quick to say “I didn’t spill ALL of it though!” (no he has a little more he can save to spill in the car)  I told the lady at check-out that I’ll try to hurry up and get us out of the store as fast as possible!

Addie had her own money with her, so I let her buy herself a little treat at Safeway.  When we get home, she was in the new room on the new rug.  She started jumping up and down on a dance-mat-type of thing, and proceeded to spill all the powder-sugar stuff from her candy on the new rug!  It sure smelled sweet in there!  So, I got to take out my lovely vacuum and clean up all the glass in the front entry and all Addie’s powdered sugar stuff in the rug.  

Just before dinner, I asked Addie to take all the toys off the dinner table.  She kept the book she was reading in her hand and tried to lift the huge pile of toys off the table.  It landed on her foot.  I hate it that I had so little empathy for that when she didn’t decide to put her book down first!  She was crying so hard and looking at me like “don’t you CARE!?!?”  ummm… I wish you would’ve put down your book first…

This is just the list of spills and drops today- there were so many more whines, disobediences, fights, and frustrating moments that I couldn’t even begin to write down… and thankfully I’ve mostly forgotten all of them already now that everyone’s in bed, clean after baths, and sleeping peacefully and sweetly. 

It feels so hard and exhausting trying to keep up and provide a comfortable, clean environment for our kids- not to mention a peaceful and happy home as well.  Wow, do I ever need the Lord’s grace and peace daily.  He’s so good and patient with me.  I never thought I’d have to ask forgiveness so much!  

Aren’t we so much like our own children in the house of God the Father?  We make messes, break things, disobey, bicker, whine, and basically act like… children.  Yet our Father God has infinite patience and forgiveness for our childish ways.  We love you Lord and thank you for your Grace.

 Photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/rayani/2672808893/”>Rayani Melo</a> / <a href=”http://foter.com”>Foter.com</a&gt; / <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>CC BY-NC-ND</a>

Photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/kubina/185188456/”>Jeff Kubina</a> / <a href=”http://foter.com”>Foter.com</a&gt; / <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>CC BY-SA</a>

Photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/carowallis1/303633288/”>Caro Wallis</a> / <a href=”http://foter.com/Food/”>Foter.com</a&gt; / <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>CC BY-NC-ND</a>

Losing ourselves and loving it

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It is time to revive a theme:  Gross Mommy stories.  Today’s horror story comes to you directly from the bowels of Costa Rica in the lovely town of Atenas.  Missionary friends of ours live out there with their brood of kids and their dog Lucy.  I hope your breakfast has already digested.  

This morning started out normally enough: early to rise, breakfast of homemade banana bread, the juiciest of pineapples, and yogurt (keep this menu in mind as I proceed). The kids had just finished clearing their morning dishes from the table, and Brody and Ashlyn had headed out to lounge in the hammock in the backyard till school started. I was at the sink washing dishes, which so happens to be a chore I don’t mind one bit.

As I watched the two littles perform their normal kid antics, I heard Ashlyn’s voice, full of shock, yell, “What’s Lucy doing?” I looked up and out the window above the sink to see Lucy squatting to accomplish her morning duty in the backyard. What I failed to miss at first glance was what Ashlyn’s sharp little eyes had spied. “Oh mom,” she screamed, “I’m going to throw up!”

I emptied my hands and leaned forward in an attempt to get a better look at what was so horrifying about Lucy’s very normal activity. It was then that I glimpsed it, the very non-typical neon green string, that was very much NOT a normal part of this normal dog activity. Within moments, Lucy seemed to finish up, and quickly began to jaunt away from the scene of the crime. As she did so, something stretched from her backside toward the ground. As her distance from the scene increased, so did the tension in the neon green string. Now taut, something attached to this green string jumped from the ground and slapped the unsuspecting Lucy on the haunches.

Commence the dry heaves and wretches that so often proceed an all out vomit fest…from both Brody and Ashlyn. As Lucy ran, helter skelter, to escape whatever was pursuing her and slapping her as she ran, Brody and Ashlyn came rushing toward the back door threatening to evacuate their stomachs. Ashlyn made it further than Brody, who ended up losing his just-eaten breakfast on the threshold of the back door. I heard Ashlyn make it around the corner into the hallway and it was there that I heard the tell tale splatters on the tile floor.

As I rushed to assist Brody at the back door, Lucy met me as she continued her attempted escape from the neon green assailant. And then the horror, oh the horror! The duet that met me on the threshold was the thing nightmares are made of. Brody, still in the midst of projectile vomiting, with Lucy standing beside him, soiled, neon green sticky frog glued to her side, string still trailing from somewhere deep inside.


It is worth mentioning that for the last few weeks I have had Proverbs 31:25 up on my fridge, as a constant reminder to myself, “She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come” (NIV).

Touché, Lord, for in that very moment I began laughing like never before. I was laughing so hard that big ol’ tears streamed down my face. Meanwhile the retching and vomiting continued in surround sound, Brody before me and Ashlyn behind. All the while Lucy tried to make a mad dash into the house to hide under the kitchen table.

I did all I knew to do in that moment. I shut the back doors. I shut the doors. And I laughed. Oh, did I ever laugh. The situation was unbelievable. Truly, truly, truly unfathomable. Oh if only I could have kept that door shut and not faced the reality of what awaited me on the other side: the clean up and the extrication of the stretchy green frog from the backside of our dog.

My one-day-a-week house helper snapped me from my reverie of insanity, having come running in alarm at what must have sounded like nothing short of pure pandemonium. I retold the story the best I could through giggles, snorts, and dripping eyes. You should have seen Liliana’s face. I saw shock, horror, alarm, hilarity, disgust, and a whole other gamut of emotions pass over her face as I spoke Spanish words I’ve yet to use together, recto (rectum), jugette elastico (elastic toy), pegado (stuck), and vomitando (vomiting). Sweet lady she is, she half-whispered that she would help. “No,” I told her, “no, this is my job.”

I’ll save you the details of untangling the stretchy poo-covered frog from Lucy’s long fur. I’ll also save you the details of the extraction of the string from her innards (suffice it to say that stretching, poo, and being slapped in the hand, rubber-band fashion, were involved). I’ll save you the details of the vomit clean up. I’ll save you the details of the smell. Lawdy, the smell!

Horrific as it all was, this is one story to remember. Epic in portion, outlandish in details, and like no other story I’ve ever heard. Indeed, “these are the days I’ll remember” (cue the 10,000 Maniacs song)!

You can read more of their crazy, wild adventures in missions and life over seas at Jennie’s blog “Losing ourselves and loving it”.

Lucy was here, better call FEMA

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Lucy, my 5 year old, is a living tornado.  If you want it broken, for insurance purposes, just put it into her hands and you’ll have a perfectly good claim in under 3 minutes.  She is easily the most destructive child I’ve ever known.  I’ve known puppies that cause less destruction than this mischevious child.  For example, I’m on my second lap top since she poured a cup of water on my first one.  So I should know better than to leave her alone for any period of time.  But today I had a lapse in parenting.  I got side tracked doing something upstairs and left her alone in the living room watching a video.  I should have known better.  She can not be trusted.

An hour later when I came downstairs, our tile floor was a swimming pool.  There was standing water on the coffee table, a wet spot on the couch, a soaking wet towel covering the foot stool, and a puddle that spanned from the living room to the dinning room and into the kitchen.  I followed a set of dirty foot prints into the half bath just off the living room and I think I found the source of all the water.  This weekend our water was shut off for pipe repairs.  So I had strategically placed buckets of water next to the toilets for flushing purposes.

Our water had come back on yesterday afternoon, but I had forgotten to empty the bucket in the half bath.  Now I’m no forensics expert, but I have played Clue, so here’s how I think the crime scene could be reconstructed.  Lucy is watching a video and absent-mindedly colors on the couch with the capless, brown marker in her hand.  Knowing this will make Mommy very angry, she goes into the kitchen and takes the towel from it’s place by the sink.  She’s too short to reach the sink, but she knows where there is a bucket of water placed at her height… in the half bath.  She proceeds to dip the towel into the water and carry it dripping, no soaking wet, to the couch.  She sponges the marker spot on the couch.  She still has enough water on the towel so she decides to clean the whole coffee table, after all, it’s sticky too.

She takes the still dripping towel back into the kitchen where she gets side tracked.  Her 5 year old attention span zeros in on the refrigerator.  She knows there is a bag of chocolate chips in the freezer and she thinks it’s about time for a snack after all that hard work.  The clip is off of the bag because she’s already been into it today, so she carries the bag upside down to the coffee table, spilling crumbs of chocolate chips all over the floor.  The crumbs look suspiciously like mouse poop, but there’s just too much of it to be anything but a mushy mess in the puddle which now covers 2/3 of the floor.  She goes to get the broom and dust pan from the laundry room.  She quickly gives up on that plan and abandons them in the kitchen.

Looking around, she spots some purple tissue paper on the dinning room table.  Maybe that could work like paper towels!  She carries the tissue paper to the wet spot on the couch and proceeds to rip it in two.  Well, that was fun!  She decides to rip another piece.  She continues ripping the purple tissue paper into soggy shreds that bleed onto the couch and the white tile floor.  And at this point I take notice of the dangerous silence in the house and come downstairs.  I gasp!  I shout!  I spank!  I don’t know where to begin cleaning this disaster.  I should call FEMA.

Feeling the full weight of shock and awe, I try to reconstruct the crime- Lucy with the towel in the half bath.   I think about the time when she was a toddler, she dipped a wash cloth in the toilet and sucked the water off of it.  I am thankful that this PROBABLY isn’t toilet water… at least I think it’s not.  I pray it’s not.  I check the level of the water in the toilet bowl and mentally measure the amount of water on the floor.  Nope, not toilet water.

During the next half hour of cleaning the mess my emotions swing wildly between being angry that I have to clean my floors again after I literally just did them twice yesterday AND being thankful that tile floors are waaaaay easier to clean than carpet.  So is the glass half full or half empty?  I don’t know, but I think that half of it has spilled on my floor.

My child in motion… constantly.

Guest Blogger Noelle Glidewell: The True Reason that Mother’s Day Exists

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Everyone looking smart for Easter, job well done Mommy!

Today’s blog is brought to you by homeschooling mother of four from Montana, Noelle.  I love that when I asked her if she had any gross mommy stories to contribute, it took her about 30 seconds to fire off two stories with the promise that there are PLENTY more where these came from.  Noelle deserves a very special gift for Mother’s Day this year.  Here’s why:

When my son Zeke was about three years old, he was finally out of diapers.  One day he was sporting his favorite boxer-type Spiderman undies and a pair of very loose sweat pants.  I was in the living room reading with my older two kids when he came running to me and said “Mom! My poop is in Addie’s room!”  I thought,“huh?”  I hopped out of my chair and went running to my daughter’s bedroom.  Sure enough, those nice loose undies and sweats had permitted a large, solid log to fall right out onto the floor!

I grabbed a wet wipe to pick it up as he stood there watching me.  I looked at him and saw that he was starting to gag!!  “NO!!!” I yelled at him! “Do NOT throw up!”  Well, there he went- his own poop on the floor grossed himself out so much that he had to throw up right on the carpet as well!  I was dumbfounded!!  Not even done cleaning the poop off the floor and now it’s vomit as well. Wow!  (This is why she needs a special gift in my opinion.  Poop with a side of vomit is above and beyond the call of duty.)

Or how about this story??  (notice that this takes place on the very day I asked her to write a gross mommy story.)

Today  I was driving the kids into their homeschool co-op classes.  I’m perpetually late, so I was trying to make up some time by driving as quickly as possible.  Unfortunately, both my husband and I have passed on the most severe motion-sickness genes onto our kids.  So, as we were driving this morning, six-year-old Caleb announced from the back of the van that he was feeling sick.  He had his head back and eyes closed and looked miserable.

In addition to the fast driving, my hands were so chapped that I grabbed some lotion.  But it was a highly scented one and in hindsight I realize that was probably pure torture for a motion-sick kid.

We finally arrived at our destination.  My 3-year old, Gizelle got out of the car, whined for a second and then threw up on the pavement!  Then Caleb piped up from the back and said, “I don’t feel good!” He hopped out of the van and threw up too!  Gizelle ended up throwing up three times, and Caleb four times!  Fortunately it was all on the pavement.  But then a bunch of kids came out of the homeschool co-op building and I had to tell everyone to avoid stepping in the seven puddles of vomit!  Both kids started jumping around and laughing two minutes later, so I knew all was well, but WOW!  That could’ve been disastrous if it had happened 5 minutes earlier IN the van or 5 minutes later in the building!

I feel bad for the janitor that had to hose down the parking lot after that episode.  Everyone needs to begin planning ahead for Mother’s Day this year to be sure that you sufficiently thank your mother for years of cleaning up after your bodily functions.  

Behind the scenes, she gave her kids Ring Pops for breakfast on Easter morning! Dang, why didn't I think of that?

Guest Blogger and Mommy Robin Malcolm: How Much Do I Love My Kids?

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Robin's child covered in spaghetti sauce... not the other thing.

After a bunch of Mom friends on Facebook started sharing their Mommy Horror Stories, I asked my friend Robin to write a Guest Blog for me describing her worst gag-inducing story.  Here it is in all it’s gory glory!

Warning: This article is not for the faint of heart.  It contains references to diapers, throw up and other assorted grossness.  Experienced Moms and most Dads should be fine.  Everyone else, you have been warned.

Kids are harbingers of grossness.  The first few months with the first new baby are, for the parent, a baptism into the world of diaper containment failures, reverse-ejected formula, nasal stalactites and all other manner of revolting things.  What I can never bring myself to tell a new parent, their eyes still glazed with new- baby euphoria (or maybe just lack of sleep) is that it gets worse before it gets better.

When my son was ten, he got sick in the middle of the night.   My husband was out of town and my mommy-senses started tingling when I heard a cry in the night. It registered in my sleep-heavy brain and as I was pulling myself out of the haze, I heard it.  You know: IT– That awful, gut-wrenching sound precluding a full-on violent heave.

In a time measured in nanoseconds, I went from half-asleep to a dead sprint twenty feet to his door, yelling, “TO THE BATHROOM!  TO THE POTTY! HURRY! MOVE!”  in a voice that probably woke the neighbors.

It was not to be.  My poor boy, sleeping on the top bunk, had not had enough warning to climb down the ladder, walk across the hall and toss his little cookies in the toilet.  But bless his heart, he had tried.

This is your final warning.  Weak stomachs, turn back now.

His bedroom looked like a crime scene.  Remnants of dinner trailed from the top bunk, down the wall, across the ladder, across the lower bunk and all over the floor.  And there he sat, on the top bunk in his dirty pajamas with tears streaming down his face.

“Mommy, I don’t feel good.”

How can a mother not have pity? In the midst of it all- the smell, the sight, my own fatigue, my child needed help.  So after giving him a bath and a fresh pair of jammies, I did something only a parent would do; I put him back to bed IN MY OWN BED.  With no reassurance whatsoever that he wouldn’t do it again, I tucked him in, strategically placed the obligatory bucket, prayed for him and turned out the light.

Then, armed with a portable carpet-cleaner and a lot of rags, I cleaned.  And I cleaned. And I cleaned.  I think I even heaved a few times myself.  And I kept cleaning. Never in my life have I had to clean up something so awful.

How much do I love my children? Enough to let them sleep in my own bed while I clean up their vomit.  Enough to clean their diaper blow-outs and kiss their little face when I’m done.  Enough to reach into the toilet and pull out a treasured toy.  Enough to sacrifice my last bite of chocolate cake.  Enough to share a sip of my soda, knowing it will end up with flotsam.

God’s love for His children is infinite and sacrificial.  While we were still lost in sin, wallowing in the mess we had made of our lives, God reached across time and cleaned up the mess.  He sent His only Son, allowing him to be sacrificed on a cross, to pay the penalty for the mess sin makes in our lives.  He loves us as a parent loves a child.    All we have to do is ask him for help.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God.”  1 John 3:1 (NIV)

Hollywood Horror Movies have Nothing on Parenting

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Welcome to Parenting Week on my blog.  This week I’m going to highlight some of the gross things that parents experience in the line of duty.  I have a few guest bloggers lined up and I welcome your stories too!  If you have a gross story to contribute, please leave a comment!  We’d love to hear from you.

So without further ado, today I present a trifecta of parenting horror stories guaranteed to make you gag and thank your lucky stars it wasn’t YOUR child that did that.

My first story is bound to embarrass my first-born.  When T.J. was about 2 years old, he was visiting my parents during a hot summer day.  My dad decided to take the boy to the local bookstore to browse the children’s section and enjoy a mango smoothie in the coffee shop (btw, mango smoothies make electric green diapers if you know what I mean).  In the parking lot, my dad opened the back door to release the boy.  When he jumped out of the car, his piece of gum fell out of his mouth and stuck to the hot black top.  My dad warned, “Just leave it there, it’s dirty now.”  And they walked into the bookstore.  About an hour later, they returned to the car.  My dad had long forgotten about the gum on the ground, but the boy remembered.  Quick as a wink, before my dad could stop him, T.J. bent over and popped that old piece of gum back into his mouth!  It was just as soft and chewy as before… though maybe a little grittier than before.

My second Mommy Horror is brought to you courtesy of my middle child.  Both of my daughters have been quite oral, die-hard finger suckers.  When Emma was 4, we moved to Costa Rica.  I tried to break her of the sucking habit ahead of time, but nothing worked.  I had begun to resign myself to the constant round of diarrhea she experienced from licking every germ in a foreign country when this event happened.  At this time, we had no car, so we walked everywhere we went- dodging dog poop on every route.  There is poop EVERYWHERE here.  (When we go back to America my kids are astonished at how clean everything is.)  So one day we walked home from school as usual.  My daughter proceeded to take her shoes off and for no apparent reason LICKED THE SOLE OF HER SHOE and then set it down. Before the word NOOOOOO could escape my lips, the moan WHHHHHYYYY?!?! flew out.  Most of you parents know, there is no answer that will satisfy that question.

My third story is along those same lines.  My youngest child, also a finger sucker, is my most oral child.  She has licked more things in this world than I can even recount. From tables and chairs to door knobs and hand rails, this child is fascinated with texture.  One day I found her methodically sucking on every cabinet knob in the kitchen.  But the absolute worst thing, in my mind, was the day I caught her sucking the water out of the shower door track!  Agh!  There is not enough Lysol in the world!

So now it’s your turn.  Leave a comment and tell us about your grossest parenting story.  Don’t try to shield us, give it to us in all it’s glorious detail!  Muahhahahh!  Parenting is not for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach.

My youngest daughter Lucy, licking a daisy. Don't bother asking why. Just because.