When Being a Mom Means Kissing This

When Being a Mom Means Kissing This


When Being a Mom Means Kissing This

Motherhood is full of surprises. Every day I am faced with the reality of my own selfishness. Some days I am overwhelmed by the mistakes of the day and the need to do better, and to be better, for my kids.

This though, is a story of unselfishness. I am excited to report that in this most unexpected happenstance, I acted in my child’s best interest despite my personal circumstances.

So here’s the story…

I had just put the kids to bed. Finally. The 3-year-old was wearing pajamas (yay!) and my 1 ½ year old daughter had a fresh diaper and nightie. A few minutes later I heard shrieking from the one in princess jammies. I entered the room, with only dim evening light peeking through the blinds, and approached the crib. I was greeted by a puckered lip and a little hand outstretched toward my face.

Ah, I thought. She pinched her finger and needs a kiss better. So I kissed the tiny digit.

It didn’t…smell right. Daughter gave me a perplexed look. I took another sniff of her pink hand.

It was coated with poop. Runny, hard-to-see poop. I lifted up the child’s nightgown to find vile runny stuff up her back and down her legs. She was wearing Huggies, but I doubt whether even her trusty cloth diapers could have contained this one.

This was obviously a painful case for my little girl, so I hurried her to the changing matt and cleaned her up as gingerly as I could. Her bottom was flaming red even though she’d filled the diaper just minutes earlier. I spoke to her soothingly as I slathered her skin with rash cream, then fitted her with a clean diaper.

Next I carried the child (much happier now) to the bathroom, where I washed her hands with soap.

And now I remembered. I still had you-know-what on my lips. I scrubbed them vigorously in the water, than tucked my purple-clad daughter into bed.

When my husband came home from work, I recounted to him the events of the night. You know what he said?

“Uh, now I don’t feel like kissing you anymore.”

This is the kind of thanks I get after such devotion to your offspring??? (But really, who can blame him?)

And now I am proud to tell you that in spite of my many mothering mistakes, in the stinkiest of moments, I put my child first. I think we mothers don’t realize the depth of our love until it is put to the test, and the lengths we will travel for our kids.

Nevertheless… I really hope I never kiss poop again.


Linked at: The Weekend Re-Treat

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