One thing you quickly learn as a parent: everything is perpetually sticky. Seriously, everything. I have no clue where this mysterious kid goo originates, but it manages to cling to every surface in my house, car, and yard with alarming consistency.
Just the other day, I reached for the bathroom doorknob, only to be met with a slick sensation. Mid-turn—bam! My hand hit a patch of some honey-like substance, effectively gluing me to the knob. After prying my digits free, I did the sniff test, flexed my hand a few times, and scrubbed my hands like a surgeon prepping for the OR. I have no idea what that sticky mess was, but the memory alone is enough to trigger a wave of dry heaves. Yuck!
My kitchen table, once a respectable piece of furniture, now resembles a petri dish. With the right lighting, you can witness the remains of chicken nugget fingerprints, a peanut butter valley, and the small town of Old Ranch Dressingville. Even the strongest disinfectant wipes are no match for the Rorschach test that is my dining surface. At this point, burning the table might be our only option.
The sight that really breaks my heart, though, is my truck. I used to be a bit of a gearhead. My Zen time was spent in the garage, meticulously detailing our vehicles. They were spotless, with a fresh scent that could rival any new car smell. But now? My truck is a disaster zone. Every conceivable substance is smeared across the floor mats and seats. The other day, it took me 20 minutes to extract myself from the driver’s seat because I was glued to it. And on hot days, a particularly pungent odor wafts up from the back seat—a lingering reminder of spilled milk and my lost battle against kid mess. The one silver lining? If I ever get stranded in my truck during a snowstorm, I could probably survive for a week on the half-eaten granola bars and spilled Cheerios.
Letting go of my OCD tendencies has been a monumental challenge after having kids. Deep breaths and gallons of hand sanitizer are now my best friends. As I type this, I just spotted my dog running by with a ham sandwich stuck to his side.
And I’m not sure what’s on my keyboard, but my pinky is currently glued to the pppppppppppppp...
Photography credit: Jeremy Padgett
