Ew, Goobies

A roll of toilet paper attached to the wall of...
A roll of toilet paper attached to the wall of a bathroom. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) Authors’ note: I swear to God, this is from Wikipedia but it LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE OUR TOILET PAPER FIXTURE AND ROLL

I may be momniscient, but there have been a few recent transgressions even I could never have predicted.

Transgressions of the mucoid kind.

As a parent, you expect to clean up a certain amount of widely-ranging bodily fluids, solids, suspensions, and emulsions, but it’s difficult to predict when and where these opportunities will arise.

For example, just the other day, whilst keeping my two-year old company as he sat on the potty, I noticed the trash can was overflowing. Naturally, I picked up the trash can to inspect and rearrange its contents, and a couple of crumpled up lengths of toilet paper were left behind, stuck to the wall.

Adhered to the wall.

Glued to the wall with the unparalleled strength of a certain unidentified child’s mucus. In vain, I tried to detach the toilet paper from the wall. I was unsuccessful.

From here til eternity, there will be two little pieces of toilet paper stuck to the wall, forever reminding me of my haphazard attempts at maintaining a clean and tidy home.

Just moments later, as I washed my hands, I noticed the unmistakable glistening of day-old sputum in the sink. It had a feminine tinge of pink, which was rather disturbing in its own right. I could do nothing at the moment but walk away, in order to avoid producing my own semi-solid bodily fluid to contribute to the mixture, but I ovaried-up and cleaned up that blob with a baby wipe during my next foray into said bathroom. It was a proud moment.

I visit that bathroom many times a day, sometimes alone, but usually accompanied by one or two small creatures.

The creatures require frequent bathing. In fact, the very evening of the day that I’d received these mucoid-induced gagging opportunities, I bathed the smaller creature. True story. The bath itself was uneventful, though the creature did refuse to exit the tub. Transitions can be hard. Bad ass mom that I am, I simply wrapped him up in a towel and scooped the wiggling creature out of the tub. Then we both played a game we invented and like to call, “Baby.”

He pretends he’s a baby. When it’s my turn, I say, “Oh, what a cute little baby.”

As we were snuggling, I carried the Baby out to see the Daddy, and as I lifted my head from cooing at his sweet little face, the Daddy and I both noticed that my hair seemed to be attached to the Baby’s nose.

In fact, my hair was indistinguishable from a strand of what the Baby calls “goobies.” Where did my hair end and the goobies begin? It was a disgusting mystery none could solve.

The moral of this story? It’s time for mama to get a haircut.

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Part of the solution since 1973.

19 thoughts on “Ew, Goobies

  1. Oh my goodness!! I’ll have to warn the queen about her long hair and the potential for the little prince’s goobies to interact in mysterious and disturbing ways. Oh my, oh my. In other news, we are currently dealing with an overflowing amount of drool as teething has set on in earnest… It sure seems like more liquid is pouring out of his mouth than he could possibly be sucking/slurping/snorfing down.

    1. Strangely enough, Akismet sent this comment to the spam folder.

      In glad you found this post instructive…I should do a follow-up on vomit!

  2. I nicknamed my granddaughter Kayla Goobie as a young one. Probably not very nice, but it was truthful. I don’t use it any more, thank goodness she has grown up quite a bit.

  3. I am so immune to this stuff by now. It takes quite a bit to make me gag. The last time was when we were caring for the neighbour’s dog, and I don’t want to talk about it, and you don’t want to hear about it.

  4. I remember the days when I felt like a hygienically sound person. Not since having the little cootie machine. And after I volunteer at the school, I feel like I need a decon shower. Cleanliness is not next to godliness – it’s next to impossible, if you have children. Long live vinegar!

    1. And baking soda!

      Michelle, my son is potty training, which entails lots of nakedness. He has peed on our couch an chair. Someone told me vinegar would remove the smell, so now they smell like piss and vinegar.

      1. It’s never ending – even once they’re potty trained. My child left a green crayon in one of her shorts pockets. Argh. And bathroom habits don’t improve until a little more hand-eye coordination has developed. Sigh…back to housework.

  5. Lol, you’ll get there. 😛 I don’t have kids but I’ve spent pretty much my entire adolescence around baby animals and various secretions. It’s gotten to the point where oh, poop on the floor? No worries, I’ll have that cleaned up in thirty seconds. 😛

    1. I wrote this post before this happened: my son sneezed and the booger strings were so long that one of them plopped on the floor before I could get to it. An audible plop!

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