(Image from Discovery Channel)
It is my humble opinion that having children can be one of the most disgusting jobs around. Seriously. I'm considering calling up Mike Rowe and asking him to come and do a Dirty Jobs episode at my home.
Today, Natalie's stomach decided that something was wrong. She projectile vomited, vomited, and vomited some more all over herself, me, and the futon. The two of us were dripping, I was soaked through, and the futon had puddles on it.
Natalie sat and giggled after it was over, and I, covered in foul-smelling curdled milk, took a moment to think about how much I love her in between thoughts of "How on EARTH am I going to clean both of us up without tracking this mess everywhere?!?"
Well, I ran to the laundry room and pulled out a blanket. After putting Natalie on the blanket and ascertaining that she did not have a temperature (thank God!), I pulled her diaper off and ran her to the bathroom for a quick bath. In the ten seconds that she was out of her diaper, she somehow had to go to the bathroom . . . diaper-less . . . all over my bathroom.
There were no paper towels in the bathroom, and I didn't want to risk running with her to the kitchen lest we have another accident, this time on the wood floors; therefore, I grabbed some tissues, threw them onto the floor to soak in the mess, and quickly bathed my daughter.
Carefully, I pulled her out of the tub and into a towel, making sure the whole time that I did NOT let her touch my body because I was still covered in grossness. Once her diaper was on, I put her down for a nap so that I could get everything cleaned up.
While not the first time something so disgusting has occurred, the magnitude of this event has definitely stepped things up some.
Now, I get easily grossed out. If I hear someone else being sick, I instantly begin gagging. If I see someone else being sick, chances are that I will be sick in a minute too. If I even hear about a story like this, my stomach begins to churn.
So answer me this: if my stomach is that weak, why is it that I still want to take care of this child who made a mess all over me and my house? Must be love.
It gives me yet another little glimpse at how much God loves His children. Our sin to Him is much worse than the contents of my baby's stomach, but He loves us anyway. While Natalie doesn't often create such a mess, we sin many times each and every day. As a mother has unconditional love for her child, so much more does God look upon His own with eyes of love because His Son has covered the grossness and vileness of our sins with His grace and righteousness.
All seriousness aside, though, I still think that Mike Rowe could have a pretty nifty episode if he came over for a day. I mean, come on--how many of you have a job as DIRTY as mine?!