Responsibly Dripping

What’s small, white, and the bane of any mother’s existence?

Molars. And Littlest has two coming in together. Best part? They’re both on the top, so when he isn’t crying about his gums, he’s crying because of the snot, and when he’s not crying because of the snot, he’s crying because of the poop. Admittedly, if I was leaking bodily fluids out of pretty much all orifices, I’d be crying too. So far the only thing not leaking is his ears.

Eyes: Self explanatory from the wailing.

Nose: Yep.

Mouth: Definitively, yes!

Butt: You got it.

And since everyone has to pee, it’s pretty much all encompassing.


We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important announcement! By a sheer coincidence, silence has erupted in the Gnome household!

Oops. I lied. It was temporary. My feet are now being attacked by a leaking child, and Biggest is now protesting his awakeness with shocking vehemence.

In amongst the drips and screeches, though, I find myself oddly grateful. I always wanted to be a mom. Most people treat motherhood as a step down in society, but honestly folks, it may be a payless job, and you may not have a piece of paper saying you did X number of years in school, heck, you may not even get out of your jammies, but it is the most important job on the planet. Not only are we continuing human existence, but we alone are responsible for the outcome of the next generation. That’s a pretty important position, don’t you think?*


*I am not responsible for opinions uttered during sleepless nights or puke duty. I am also not responsible for anything that may leave my mouth before I have had my coffee. (Just so you know.)

Anyway, speaking of responsibilities, Biggest is now stomping his vehemence instead of verbally protesting, and the baby is suspiciously quiet and no longer under my legs, which can only mean that something is either about to go wrong or already has.


The Handler.



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