As a mom, I’ve been blessed with lots of nastiness… my kids have spit up on me, thrown up on me, peed and pooped on me, bled on me, and wiped their noses on me.
And I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’m a mom; it comes with the territory. I can almost stomach all of the bodily fluids and other fun things that come out of my offspring. They’re mine, I made them… and I love every part of them, even their poop and boogies.
But yesterday, the most disgusting thing EVER happened to poor me.
I was sitting on the couch, innocently reading a book. Lizzie, the disgusting, sorry-excuse-for-a rat-dog, was sleeping on the cushion right above me (it’s her favorite spot to sleep… the top of the couch, where Comet can’t get to her very easily).
I’m reading, the kids are off playing somewhere (not bothering me; that’s the important part)… life is pretty darn good.
Then, suddenly, I hear Lizzie make this God-awful coughing noise, and I feel something warm and wet hit my back. The dog puked on me…. Dog puke. ON me. Without a doubt, the nastiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my 32.5 years of life.
I can guarantee you’ve never seen a person jump up and remove her shirt as quickly as I did yesterday after being spat upon by that vile creature.
I’m still having flashbacks. *shudder*