Friday, November 03, 2017

I've got this...or not...

Last night I grabbed my toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it. As I was raising it to my mouth I happened to glance at the toothbrush holder and toothbrush.

My mind started going a million miles an hour...

"Wait a second," I thought to myself, pleased that I had caught myself before brushing my teeth with someone else's toothbrush (one of the worst feelings in the world (not that I know from experience or anything)) but a little confused because I could have sworn that I grabbed my toothbrush.

Indeed, the toothbrush I was holding was my own. But the toothbrush still in the toothbrush holder was also my own.

Oh, that's right. I replaced my toothbrush the night before with a new—but identical—one. Had I forgotten to throw my old one away? No, I distinctly remember tossing it into the trash, which means...

"Ew!" I squealed, jerking the toothbrush away from my half-open mouth.

"What?" Andrew asked.

"This is my old toothbrush," I said. "The one that I threw away yesterday!"

"That means...ew..."

Yes, that means that one of my well-meaning and oh-so-very-helpful children dug it out of the garbage can and returned it to the toothbrush holder.

We have a newborn right now so "garbage can" is pretty much synonymous with pile-of-poopy-diapers because our newborns are and always have been the poop-after-every-meal-(sometimes-twice) kind of newborns. And that's part of the reason why I'm a little frazzled, I think.

I remember meeting my friend Tiani in the mother's lounge when Benjamin was teensy-weenie. She had just finished feeding her little girl and brought her up to her shoulder to burp her when I noticed she didn't have a burp cloth with her. I always pack at least five (and by "burp cloth"  I mean "receiving blanket" because there's no way a tiny square of fabric is going to soak up the amount of liquid one of my babies is bound to expel; I need a yard of fabric for that mess) so I offered her one.

"Do you want to borrow a burp cloth?" I asked, holding one up.

"What for?" she responded innocently.

"To...catch all the spit-up..." I said.

"Oh, my baby doesn't spit up," Tiani smiled.

Then Benjamin did a great big blow-out poop so I got to change that mess and she was like, "Oh, wow! You handled that so well. I never quite know what to do when my baby poops..."

And I was like, "Well, when they poop like twelve times a day you get used to it."

"My baby only poops once a week," she whispered.

And then we stared at each other like neither one of us could believe the other type of baby actually existed.

So, yup. My garbage can is chock full of poopy diapers (I'm just getting into cloth diapering again (keeping up with cloth diapers the first couple of weeks is just too much to ask, if you ask me (which we are, so...))) and my toothbrush was marinating in them before someone rescued it for me. And I just about used it to brush my teeth. But then I didn't, so all was well.

Also yesterday:

I went into the pantry to look for something and came across a bag of salad...that a friend had dropped off for dinner...on Monday.

Just a little something to remind me that I'm so totally not quite on top of things yet.


  1. Pooping once a week doesn't seem healthy. How sweet of your kids to rescue your toothbrush from the trash. Ha!

    1. Re: pooping

      I know! So weird, right? But it really isn't entirely unusual for breastfed babies to go even up to 10 days before pooping (which is completely unfathomable to me as my babies were all seemingly constantly pooping).