Sunday, May 04, 2008

Where Others Run the Other Way

Lemme start this post by saying this post should not minimize the legitimate heroism of fire departments around the world. Along with the other professions of the armed forces and police officers, theirs is the heroism and sacrifice, that being said, let's get to business.

I remind those with weak conthitutions to refrain from reading further.


It all started with one word today, one word that most certainly send terror into the hearts of all singles and DINKs (dual income no kids) out there. But words like this are second nature in our profession. The profession: parenthood; the word: boogie.

Yes, it all started in the midst of a conversation between my wife and her mother, Grace came in, index finger extended, and told mommy "boogie". Now, most would not exactly know what was transpiring here, unless you are part of the 'profession'. Perhaps you'd think she was an early imitator of John Travolta preparing for the pose in Saturday Night Fever.

There was something on the end of that finger, and it was passed to mommy without a second glance, flinch or even an "OH MY GOD...I'M GOING TO BE SICK". Of course, the boogie had an 'R'...
So, "what" you say "would motivate a person to accept things from another human that would cause others to run to their therapist?" I tell you the name: parenthood.

A parent is fearless in the face of all that is excreted from their offspring. From the tiniest sleeper to the largest vomit ever recorded, a parent will always be running TOWARD that danger. Countless times, when the dark stain of wetness appears on the lower portion of the buttocks, we're there pealing back the layers to repair the 'leak'. When the cry from the upper bunk of "I feel sick" comes; who is there to take the shower? When the spill of a major glass of milk or food or whatever may befall a tabletop or carpeting, the parent is there to take it and make it alright. The cuts and bruises, major and minor; the late night trips to the emergency room and the weekends at the doctors and CVS; we'll be there to make it right.

We're there at every turn, not only to make it right; but to make it better. All those projects cleverly disguised as 'third grade art projects' that are more challenges to parents to make something inspiring out of recycled material and make you THINK HE thought it up. So many room clean-ups that would have taken us 30 minutes, but children struggle to do in 1/2 a day.

We are there, protecting the under 18 humanity from certain failure, malnutrition and certain death. Making sure that the homework is done; the bodily odor is not there; that the basic needs of food, clothing and shelter are met. We are the few, the proud, the parents...




I could not figure out how to fit this into the post, but one of the things that parents have to instill in their children is that boogers can't be chewsers...words to live by

5 comments:

kristina said...

what parents do!

Do'C said...

"boogers can't be chewsers"

Excellent, but didn't this come from Herophilos?

Bill, I loved this piece. You've captured that "not-so-pretty", yet "no-big-deal" essence of parenthood, while showing that kids, well, are kids!

But on a serious note, remember making rubber cement boogers in grade school? Man, that was cool.

LIVSPARENTS said...

NOW I'm getting some CLASSY surfers from Google. My latest traffic from the word search: "Largest booger ever recorded"!

r.b. said...

Thanks for the laughs!

Niksmom said...

This has to be one of the funniest things I've ever read...and absolutely TRUE!