If I was a superhero I'd be Lady Gag

I am easily grossed out.
I mean ridiculously easily grossed out.  And when I get grossed out one of two things happens; my arms feel like they lose all strength from the elbows down and become limp noodles, or I gag.  I'm not talking about the feeling where you might gag, the feeling where your stomach turns a little bit and maybe even shifts in the suggestion of a heave.  I have a really strong gag reflex.  When I say I gag I mean I full out retch.  And as per the aforementioned statement, I gross out easily.  Ergo, I gag a lot.

What grosses me out you ask?  It might be easier to ask what doesn't gross me out.  There's the obvious things like strong, putrid smells, the sound of someone retching/vomiting and general gore and disgustingness.  The day Hugh came home from work with a bandage on his finger is sort of a stand-out.  When he took the bandage off his middle finger to show me his wound all I could see was bloody, meaty flesh where his nail was supposed to be.  I couldn't look at his hands until the nail was fully grown back several months later.  But that's normal stuff to be disgusted by.  There's a whole host of other neurotic things that gross me out.  Like the sound of people eating really ripe banana's.  Even thinking about that squishing sound makes my arms feel weak and I'm having trouble typing.  A shudder literally just ran up my spine.  What else?  Birds.  Birds swarming on the ground looking for food.  Birds that people allow sit on their hands or shoulders or any part of their body.  Belly buttons.  The thought of how Thai Fish Sauce is made. (I actually can't talk about it or I'll never make Pad Thai again.) The word nipple.  The foam fluoride at the dentist.  The list goes on.  A few weeks ago I was at a garage sale that was through the garage and into the peoples' backyard where there was a fish pond.  In the fish pond were several huge, disgusting, slithery orange fish.  Seeing them slither in the water suddenly, and might I add unexpectedly, made my arms feel weak and my eyes water in the attempt to control the gag.  I have no explanation for this. Do Koi fish gross anyone else out?  Probably not.

This is just the tip of the neurotic iceberg.  Once, PK, (that would be the days Pre Kids) I was at a friend's house for dinner.  We were sitting around after dinner and she had just finished nursing her not even two-month-old baby and was sitting her up to burp her.  Let's just say that after seeing the baby spit up I ran for the bathroom and only made it as far as the kitchen sink before re-experiencing my steak and potatoes.  Really not as good the second time around.

I was one of the last of my close friends to have kids and I know they were all secretly dying to see how I'd handle all the disgusting things you have to do as a parent.  And let me tell you there are many, starting with a partially attached, rotting-looking umbilical cord.   There is also poo.  I have wiped every kind of poo imagineable; sticky, runny, firm.  Did you know that kiwis and blueberries are the worst? Blueberries give you blue hay in your diapers and kiwi's look exactly the same on the other side just runnier.  I have wiped "just starting solid food" stinky, "I'm sick" stinky, and "I'm on antibiotics" stinky.  I have wiped poo off my hands, off my leg and off my clothes.  So. much. poo.  But let's not forget the vomit.  I have wiped chunks of partially-digested, sour-smelling food bits from every surface imaginable.  Clothes, carseats, carpets; you name it, it's been puked on.   I have even, when necessity required, caught puke in my bare hands.  Isn't motherhood glorious?

And how did I handle these disgusting things?  Not by gagging.  I know!  I'm surprised as you are.  As hard as it is for even me to believe, almost none of that has brought up the same reflex I get listening to a banana being masticated.  I really don't understand how I have not been phased by these aspects of motherhood that truly are disgusting.  (Koi fish? What?) There have been one or two exceptions but for the most part I have handled these things with aplomb, if I do say so myself.  Motherhood really is transformative.  My kids are even allowed to eat bananas while I'm in the room.  AND IT DOESN'T BOTHER ME! 

What does bother me is a new little phase we've hit with the big kids.  Losing teeth.  Good lord I can hardly write that without breaking into a cold sweat.  Not too long ago Ava came to me and said, "Guess what Mom? my tooth is loose."  Sure enough it was a teeny bit wiggly.  A few weeks after that Ava came to me and said, "Hey Mom, check this out!" and pushed her tooth out of it's socket - do teeth have sockets? - with her tongue.  I am so thankful I was standing in my kitchen because I literally had to grab onto my island to keep from hitting the floor.  I could still hear Ava talking but her voice sounded like it was coming through a tin can from very far away.  I stood gripping the counter, breathing deep, swallowing convulsively and squeezing my eyes shut until those weird little sparklers behind my eyelids stopped going off. 

Whoa.  Just had to take a minute to shake out my arms.

This past Saturday morning we were all cuddled onto the couch to watch Justice League (which I actually PVR on Friday nights for me but watch on Saturday mornings with my kids so I can pretend it's for them) when Ava suddenly shouts, "Mom my tooth!" and holds out her hand which is holding her tiny tooth while her mouth bleeds from the sudden gaping hole.  I am so thankful I was already sitting down.  I'm also thankful Hugh was there to hold Ava while she cried off the shock and excitement of losing her tooth.  I was very helpfully putting my head between my knees and trying not to moan out loud.

You know what I see when I look at this smile?

All those teeth she has left to lose.