We Have a New Winner

There is a new clear front runner in a very upsetting contest.
It's the "embarrassing statements I can't believe I had to say to my kid" contest I started with myself several posts ago.
I swear I am not making this up, I actually said this to my daughter just this afternoon. I managed not to yell, and I feel I managed to control my total panic and disgust for the most part, so I'm calling it a mommy victory, despite the clear failure to keep the situation from happening in the first place. I only wish my warning/correction/freakout had come out of my mouth in a more mature, sophisticated, classy, or allover less embarrassing way.
"No, NO, Samantha!!! We do NOT suck on old poo poos!!!"
Oh. my. gosh.
I had no idea parenting would provide me with the opportunity to say things like this when my kid is not even efficiently mobile. Yet here we are.
Not for the first time, I desperately hope the neighbors don't pick up our baby monitor's signal.
If you want to know the situation that led to me running across the room and making such a tasteful declaration, you'll have to let me know. It doesn't seem right to post yet another poo poo story on the web without fair warning. All I have to say was I did avert the worst crisis this brings to mind, and am not as bad a mom as you are thinking I am. Not my proudest moment, but it could have been worse. Way worse. Although it wasn't for lack of trying, Sam did NOT actually suck on poo poo.
I never thought I'd see the day where having a family member not put poo in their mouths was a good day, but that day is today. Hello world, it's my first day to truly understand the meaning of "small victory." Very small.
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I never worried about someone in my realm of responsibility eating poop, or bugs, or pretty much any non-food items. Although Daniel has always considered them a weapon of permanent carpet-staining proportions, I never before considered a raisin a harbinger of certain death (shout out to "What to Expect the First Year" for the gift of my new psychotic choking phobia). Finally, it's true that I wouldn't consider mosquitoes and me to be friends--they treat me like a Vegas buffet-- but I never thought of one as my mortal enemy until I saw it hovering around Sam's cute chubby thighs.
It was only six months ago that I didn't have a hyper-intense focus on the literal minutiae of life. However, I was also absent the intense depth of feeling that comes with being a parent. I'll take the expansion of the "poop and bug avoidance" sector of my brain since its required with the love, compassion, and knowledge remodel I so desperately needed. The disgusting and highly stressful parts of Sam's adventures are more than worth it for all the wonderful her gigantic personality brings into our lives. Yeah, I'm a total whack-job, but I'm a parent, and we're all certifiable. It comes with the gig, and I can deal with it. I might have to chuck out the "what to expect" books before I invest in a Sam-sized plastic bubble, so if you are walking by my bedroom window, you might want to duck.