This isn’t a post about how sweet and precious my children are, or the sweet and precious things they say that make me tear up. Instead, it’s about how repulsive they are at times.
We all know that kids can be downright nasty sometimes.
They pick their noses and wipe that shit everywhere. One time my friend got in the backseat of my car after I had taken Little Man’s car seat out and about had a heart attack when she noticed he had been wiping his boogers on the fucking window. And I about died of embarrassment.
They eat shit off the ground. In all fairness, my husband abides by the three second rule (so he’s nasty, too), which he will sometimes extend to five or even ten seconds if the food item is worth it, but then you have Little Man.
Little Man, who has attempted to wipe dirt off of something, failed, and ate it anyway. Little Man, who has dropped a sample piece of cheesecake on the ground at Walmart and swooped it up and stuck it in his mouth with lightning speed before I could stop him. This kid is deathly afraid of germs, unless food is involved, and then all bets are off. Have some consistency, man!
Don’t think Baby Girl is an angel just because she’s one. She just hasn’t had much opportunity to be nasty. But I know she’ll get there.
So far she mostly only grabs stray Cheerios from the floor and eats them. (Also with lightning speed, because kids apparently have a Spidey sense when it comes to know they’ve got something their mom will snatch from them.) There was also the time she grabbed a piece of quesadilla that fell out of her diaper and popped it in her mouth. I tried to swoop my finger in to take it and was promptly bitten. Don’t come between a child and her food!
The thing that really had me disgusted last night, so disgusted I was almost to the point of tears, was their car seats.
I take out their car seats every three months, take off the covers, wash them, and scrub down the car seat itself. That’s important to know based on what I’m about to tell you, so you don’t think “well, she probably only washes them once per year.”
I decided last night was car seat cleaning day. (And we do vacuum out the car seats whenever we take the car to the car wash, FYI.) So I had Sam bring them in and start spot cleaning the seats while I took the car seats apart and got the covers in the washing machine.
That was me, pretty much.
The food. The dirt. The grime. The filth.
Little Man’s car seat was atrocious. I just don’t get it–we made him stop eating in the car, mostly.
You see, when he started the new school, we let him each breakfast in the car, because he is notorious for taking forever to get out the door in the morning. We thought that would help get him out the door quicker. It didn’t, he just became even slower at simple tasks such as brushing his teeth or putting clothes on (like 45 minutes). Well, he eats like the Cookie Monster.
Which means there is food err’where. I don’t want food err’where in my car that is only two years old. After we realized that he was not only not getting out the door any quicker, but was making an unholy mess in the car, we stopped letting him have breakfast there. He has the occasional snack, but nothing that should warrant his car seat looking like it should have a condemned noticed attached to it. I knew it would be bad, because Little Man, but lord.
So I scrubbed, scrubbed, scrubbed. I got a knife out and pushed it in all the cracks. I found what appeared to be sludge in once crevice and started muttering “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me” under my breath. Sam had come back in then (he spot-cleaned the entire car and I was still on the one car seat) and kept saying “sure!” Sigh.
Then I got to Baby Girl’s car seat and base. If you’re thinking that the pretty little princess wouldn’t have anything to clean much, you’d be wrong.
It turns out that she had made a mess with Cheerios, puffs, and milk. Like, it had all combined together in crustiness underneath the car seat cover. As one of my blog friends says, I thought “What the fresh hell is that?” when seeing this, because her cover was actually fairly clean. Apparently everything just had a fun run and went under the crack where her buckle comes up, then dispersed.
So I had to take the knife and Lysol wipes to her car seat as well. Once particularly bad area had me muttering “fuck my life, fuck my life, fuck my life.”
We now have clean car seat covers, clean car seats, and a clean base. And the next time when we do the cleaning, I’m spot-cleaning the car, as Sam got off very fucking easy!