From Scott Peterson a gross, hilarious, moving post about parenting:
And it occurred to me as I was changing a diaper last night that that�s what love is. It�s fluids.
It generally starts with swapping spit, as the younguns used to say. From there it progresses until�well, you know. Modesty and the prospect of an embarrassed and potentially ever-so-slightly angry Top Management precludes me from saying more. But additional bodily fluids are involved. [For normal humans, that is, not the sainted Top Management, who resides on a different plane altogether.]
And roughly nine months later a baby emerges. Accompanied by really remarkable amounts of bodily fluids in quantities no one ever tells you about ahead of time. Horrific quantities. As in, horror film-type quantities.
And then you spend the next two or three years getting far more intimately acquainted with the bodily fluids of this new little person than you ever could have dreamt in your wildest nightmares. Often there are bodily fluids going in to the little body, and there are always bodily fluids coming out, every damn orifice, round the clock. For years. And years. And years.
Squeamish ? You don�t get to be once you�re a parent. And you quickly learn how to just buckle down and get the hideous job done. Because, really, what choice do you have? None. So just do it.
And it doesn�t end once the potty-training kicks in. Because there are still tummy bugs and accidents and teeth knocked out and nosebleeds and stopped up toilets. Fluids, always with the bodily fluids.
And later on, down the road, hopefully far, far, far down the road, when you get towards the other end of the trip, as I understand it, for many folks it all starts again. And if you�re lucky, you�ll have loved ones around to help you out then, maybe the same ones you helped way back at the beginning of their journeys.