In order to make my point, I will have to flashback to 2002. I was working at the Red Cross as a phlebotomist (insert all your vampire jokes here) and traveling the state of Utah doing the blood mobiles. I like to consider myself a normal and rational person that had reasonable reactions to situations. On this particular day, we had a very young donor, barely 18, weighed 110 pounds with weights in her pockets, and extremely nervous. Now, for all of you that do not give blood, I understand it seems scary, but I assure you, if you have eaten, drink plenty of fluids, and try and relax, it really isn't all that bad. And you should never lie about your weight such as this donor did. Well, since she was acting like a complete freak and didn't weigh enough to donate (she later admitted that part) she became rather light headed. She was at the station next to mine and I remember thinking just how glad I was that she was not my donor. I had a reputation of not liking the extremely needy donors, having a perfectly maintained station, and not doing well with any bodily fluids. She was in perfectly capable hands though, she had one of my favorite co-workers, and one of the few I would allow to draw my blood.
Well, said co-worker asked for my assistance in trying to get her donor under control. I was talking to her, got her an ice pack, and we were trying to calm her down. Things quickly turned from bad to worse when it became obvious she was going to vomit, scratch that, projectile vomit. She said, "I feel sick to my stomach" and I just knew what was coming next. I did what I thought was a "reasonable" reaction and tried to dart out of the way. However, I inadvertently grabbed my co-worker and used her as a shield. I assure you, this was an accident, but still, like I was going to stand there and let her vomit on me, see, reasonable reaction. It's worth mentioning that the majority of the vomit went on the donor and mere splashes hit my co-worker who simply changed her lab coat and was rid of the "sick" as she called it. Yep, the donor actually said she was sorry she got her sick on her lab coat.
Now, flash forward to 18 months into motherhood. Kinley has been battling a cold for a few days and some how managed to get the "sicks" yesterday. She threw up twice. The first time was no big deal, on the tile, wiped up no problem. The second, we had been playing catch with her favorite pink soccer ball when she bent over, puked down the front of her and on the tile, bounced her ball in it, then barfed all over the ball. Now, some how I was not completely repulsed as a normal person would be. I of course ran to her, got her shirt off, washed the vomit off her hands, and set to cleaning up the mess. Now, good old Marlyce would have chucked that soccer ball in the trash immediately, but the new and disgusting Marlyce, knowing how much my daughter loves it, gave it a good wash and ended up playing catch with it later, however, it does have a hint of vomit smell. The sad part, I wasn't really all that grossed out. What happened to me? Has motherhood made me disgusting? One of "those people"? I should also mention that in a moment of urgent need and no tissue close by, I used my finger to wipe the snot from Kinley's face and wiped it on my pants. Not to mention, I asked her for a kiss yesterday, not noticing that her upper lip was covered in snot, and I got a snot kiss. Oh dear, is there a cure for this?
So I leave this question, has motherhood made me a disgusting animal? I actually think that love has just blinded my eyes to these disgusting situations. And, in my defense, I was the first one to let her know how bad her breath smelled after she puked, and thank heavens she likes to brush her teeth cause it took some good scrubbing to get that stank off.