Hubby pointed something out tonight: I have more patience now that I'm a mom. What the fuck? Really?
No, really! At the moment he said that (or words that added up to saying as much) I was picking out chunks of feta from a huge bowl of Greek salad I'd made for dinner. See, I'd made the salad with the cheese even though I questioned the best before date of said cheese the entire time I was cutting it up. Hubby calmly said I probably would not enjoy the salad if I was wondering the whole time if it was going to make me hork up later. So there I was painstakingly picking out all of the cheese. He said a year ago I never would have been able to do that, and I would have just thrown out the whole damn salad. He's right.
But I think, you see, it has nothing to do with patience at all. For reals. And perhaps hubby didn't mean patience either...though for that little moment in time I revelled in that fact that (what I thought I heard) he said patience. And me. In the same sentence. I was patient! Wow! Look at me! Wonder woman! I can climb mountains! I can...ok I'll stop there. What it really is about is having a higher threshold for dirty, shit jobs now that I'm a mom.
Before baby boy I would never take out the garbage (shhhh...I could stomach it now, but I won't). I could never dump leftovers like soup down the toilet where they belong once they've festered in your fridge for 4 weeks. I could never eat leftovers, anyways. I could never clean tupperware that held yucky 4-week-old-festering leftovers (Geesh I have leftover issues!)...but now I find myself thinking "I'd better clean that tupperware cause I'm gonna need it for my homeade sweet potato puree".
Ok, I don't make homeade baby puree...but in some way for the purpose of this blog, baby boy would need the damn tupperware, got it?
I've been wiping snot mixed with vomit off my shoulders for 9 months. I've been looking CLOSELY at shit for 9 months (to see what texture/color/smell it is). I've been milking myself like you would a cow for 9 months, too. Moo. I've been suctioning noses and clipping dirty fingernails and toes (hubby's and baby's!). I'm sure it gets worse but I've blocked it out no doubt. So I clearly have just become accustomed.
Its like when you work a shit job in customer service or whatever...when you are paying your dues, as they say. You just do it! You clean the back fridge, you mop the public washroom after the local homeless have gone in, you scrub the scum from the deli meats tray...all the while you calculate your hourly wage per hour, minute and second so you can say at least I earned _____ doing that, and try to make yoursef feel better. So what just rewards awaits me at the end of this dirty job?
Oh hell...it just hit me. This job never ends.