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Hand Over the Purell

I am not a germaphobe. I have a whole list of other neuroses (read our archives if you don’t believe me), but germaphobic-ness is not among them. I typically ascribe to the “that which does not kill you” philosophy about germs.

However.

My kids have a way of finding the absolute grossest item in a ten-mile radius, and touching, licking, or generally wallowing in it. And it is about enough to send me over the edge.

We went out of town this past weekend, and I don’t know if it was just that I was a hormonal mess or that things seem grosser away from home, but seriously my kids were killing me with all the nasty things they were doing. First of all, we ate in a lot of restaurants, obviously, and even on a good day, restaurant high chairs make me cringe. So I felt like Sammy was a giant germ cesspool from that alone. (Yes, I have a Floppy Seat and yes, I was diligent about it when Kate was little, but alas it remains in a closet somewhere with the rest of the we’re-awesome-first-time-parents paraphernalia.) When we got to our hotel room, I just had to pop a Xanax and come to terms with the fact that I could not prevent him from crawling on the floor for our entire four-day stay.

And Kate. That girl has always been a magnet for disgusting. She spent the weekend laying down on the bench seat at Burger King and not just holding but lovingly stroking the handrails at Busch Stadium.

Seriously, the day she decides that touching the toilet seat is not absolutely crucial to the getting-off-the-potty process will be one of the proudest days of my life.

At one point I turned to Andy and said “I don’t know how real germaphobes ever leave the house, because I am about to have an anxiety attack.”

But I’m not a germaphobe. For real. You believe me, right?

Damn. Add that one to the list too.

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Jenny, you *were* the gold standard.

Many months ago, Jenny wrote this post:

Yesterday I went to my OB-GYN for my yearly pap (men stop reading here) and when my doctor was done with my exam she said, “Well, my dear, you’re perfect.”

Perfect? Really?

This brings up two questions:

1) Was she referring to my lady business? ‘Cause she’s seen a lot of that in her line of work, so you know, she can make a fair comparison.

2) Do you think she says that to all the girls?

Just wonderin’…

Just last week, I visited my OB-GYN, who is also Jenny’s OB-GYN (we share everything – blogs, jobs, gynecologists…), and Dr. P had barely opened up the door when she made this exclamation:

“You’re perfect!”

But since I was just there to get some test results and I was fully clothed, she couldn’t have been talking about my “lady business,” as Jenny put it. So she must have just been talking about me in general, right? Like I, as a whole, am perfect? (If you’ve ever met me or have even run across this blog before – STOP LAUGHING, it’s possible!)

Probably not.

So Jenny, I hate to burst your bubble, but yes, she says that to all the girls.

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Groom & Gloom

The other day a friend and I were talking on the phone about someone whose personal hygiene was um, less than hygienic. “Why doesn’t she bathe?” I pondered. “I LOVE bathing!”

But I must admit that isn’t exactly true. I love being ABLE to bathe, but I am too lazy to actually say I love the process. In fact, as a girly girl who loves fashion and makeup, I am kind of a poser. Because although I do love stylish clothes and shiny lip gloss, I do not enjoy the process of grooming. I would rather skip the whole cleansing-moisturizing-dressing-hair styling process ’twere it a possibility. In fact I have decided that if I had a superpower, it would be the ability to snap my fingers or wiggle my nose and be perfectly dressed, coiffed, and made up.

I am slightly embarrassed to say that I didn’t think of this great idea for a superpower myself, but I saw it many years ago on an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when Willow the witch was running late and waved her finger in the air and went from just-showered to fully-clothed in an instant. (Just for the record, in case some of you are praying for my soul right now, I don’t advocate witchcraft but Jesus and I have talked it over and even though I love Buffy I am quite certain my salvation is still intact.)

But anyhoo. When you are in the shower and you have two kids running around having “emergencies” while you still have shampoo in your hair (yesterday it was Joshua saying “Mama! Sophie fell off the bed!” and me saying, “Well, she must be ok because I don’t hear her crying.”) having the getting-ready superpower doesn’t sound so much witchy as it does divine.

But even so, I think I *might* just be willing to sell my soul in exchange for legs that would shave themselves!

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Photo by Nellee100 on Flickr

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