is not smoothly shaved and moisturized legs and well-coiffed hair with a fresh mani/pedi in a brand new, stunning outfit and high heels.
It’s baby spit-up.
Between the boobs.
That smells like sour yogurt.
(I hope you can all feel the sarcasm dripping from my words right now.)
Seriously. That has got to be the most disgusting part of motherhood. Spit-up between the girls.
Especially when said spit-up happens when you really just want your sweet baby to go back to sleep so you can do the same thing. And then, “BLECH.” And “EWWWWW.” Followed by “::GAG::”
It’s awesome, really.
Yogurt bombs, as we’ve lovingly come to call them, have to be the smelliest, most foul things I’ve experienced as a mother. And I’ve got a baby who poops four times a day, minimum. Getting poop on my hands or underneath my fingernail (as has happened more than once!) is nothing compared to the stench that is yogurt that has been souring in your child’s stomach. And which has just found its way to your cleavage.
What’s YOUR sexiest feeling in the world?