You know, the kind that eat the food that their toddler has previously drooled.
I am becoming the kind of mom that thinks cold spittle covered food is acceptable eats.
I’m not there just yet, but already I’ve seen the signs.
I consider yellow slimy baby poop the “good kind of poop”. The idea that there is a good kind of poop is strictly a parent thought. I don’t even feel the extreme rushing need to wash my hands following a diaper change. Maybe, theoretically, I don’t even wash my hands. Theoretically. Because it was the good kind of poop.
While wearing my nice clothes I get barfed on. Chunky milk barf. Do I change? No. I just rub it in so you can’t see the chunks.
In basketball shorts all day? Good enough.
Let the girl backwash in my water? No problem.
Put my hair in a bun instead of brushing it? Always.
Dropped the pacifier on the public bathroom floor? Yes.
I’m turning into the snot-covered, drag-all-my-kids-to-the-grocery-store, didn’t-even-notice-he-was-poopy kind of mom.