Hit me with your best snot.

The other day my husband A and I were sitting on the floor of the nursery talking, while the little babe played around us. A asked me to hand him something, and out of habit I reached over and picked up a pacifier and proceeded to put it in his mouth. My husband's mouth. 

I tried to give my husband a pacifier. 

For reals. 

It was the weirdest thing that has ever occurred in my brain. Ever. 

In relation, the last couple of days I have had a truck load of snot from a sicky babe slathered on me like it's moisturizer. And, as it turns out, babes with that much snot coming out of their noses don't sleep at night. AND it turns out that moms with snot-nosed babes don't either. And, it turns out that "my baby is a snot fountain" is not a valid excuse that professor's will accept for not doing homework, so up at night you stay, since that is the only time the snot nose takes his respite. It's cool, though. I like spending my nights with rhetorical theory and my days with mucus. 

So, in summary, whether you be an infant or an adult, should you try to have a conversation with me, you can be sure that my brain is so broken and tired that I will not fail to try and give you a pacifier. Also, yes, that is snot on my cheek. 

Motherhood is hot.

So is this little tribal cardi, don't you think? 

Even I can see that it is, and thinking is not really my #1 talent as of late.