Boogers in my Bra

What's with all the bodily excretions? My life as a mother is cluttered with bodily excretions. Just today I had to deal with pee and poop, saliva, snot and boogers (yes, they are two different things -- ask any mom), regurgitated breastmilk, tears, sweat, and ear wax. And this was an easy day. I got out of blood, pus, eye boogers, vomit, toe cheese, and belly button gunk. Lucky me.

The first time I noticed a booger in my bra, I was floored. How could a booger have gotten in my bra? Was someone sneaking in my room while I was asleep and using my uber expensive nursing bras to store nose goo? Boogers don't just leap into bras, ya know.

I spent a couple of days perplexed and on high alert for the booger bandit. Then while nursing Reilly, I saw it. It was a big, fat rubbery baby booger perched at the very tip of her nose. As she nursed, the thing rubbed off her nose and clung to my breast. So this was how I was getting boogers in my bra.

Now that I solved that mystery, I had an even bigger problem to deal with: What to do with said booger? I was sitting down nursing, no where near a box of tissues. No one else was home to get me a tissue. And there it sat -- an ugly, gooey baby booger right on my breast, in full view. Staring at me. Mocking me. Grossing me out. A booger on my breast. And not even my own booger.

I decided to fling it off with a finger thwack. First, I needed to decide where to aim. I didn't want it to go somewhere that would be obvious. It needed to fly to a spot where it could live out it's short booger life in relative obscurity, drying into a nice crusty piece to be vacuumed up at a later date. I decided that behind the television was as good a place as any. I took careful aim and gave it my best finger thwack.

I didn't see it fly anywhere but it was no longer on my breast so I was satisfied. Until I reached out to the remote control and saw the damn thing on my finger. The booger hadn't flown anywhere. It had just relocated to another part of my body. Why hadn't it just stayed in its body of origin? I was starting to get more irritated than grossed out.

I attempted to flick it with a finger on my other hand, but that only resulted in it transferring over. I tried shaking it off, but it was stuck to me like a barnacle to a barge. I thought about relocating it to the recesses of the couch, but the image of a booger hiding out with the lost change and old M&Ms that reside there would have kept me from ever again sitting on it. I even went so far as to try rubbing it into the fabric of my jeans. But denim is no match for the rubbery consistency of a baby booger. It just balled up and turned blue.

I must have sat there for ten minutes contemplating my next move. That's when it happened. I snapped. I went from a normal person averse to the bodily fluids of others to a booger hiding miscreant devoid of all normal distaste for excretions.

I took the booger and hid it in my bra.

From there, it's been a steady decline into the realm of the disgusting. I wipe snotty noses with the hem of my shirt. I use spit as a facial cleanser on messy mouths. Regurgitated breastmilk gets rubbed into the carpet. Not even pee can scare me. I just mop it up with whatever is handy and toss it into the dirty clothes bin.

And on any given day, you can almost guarantee I've got a booger in my bra.