Thursday, March 27, 2008

Day 187 - Son Of A Bibs

Bibs have been a necessary item of clothing for our kids.  In the same way an incontinent person would need rubber pants, the constant stream of drool from Andrew and Emma necessitates bibs.

On average, the kids go through two bibs a day.  We change bibs each time the kids eat their rice cereal which is in the morning and the evening.  And for the rest of the day, the bibs collect saliva and an occasional dried boogie.

The bibs have not only become needed because of their introduction to solid foods, but the kids are on the verge of teething.  And with teething come tugged ears, irritation, and flood gates opened with gushing spit.

As you know, my parents are currently staying with us until the first weekend of April when they will then move into their apartment a mile down the road.  But in the meantime, they are staying in our second bedroom and watching the kids during the day while Lisa and I are at work.

Over dinner tonight, Lisa commented on how we have to do the laundry because we have hardly any bibs left.  My mom explained how the kids drool so much that she needs to change the bibs often.  My mom further explained how the bibs stink with drool.  And furthermore, my mom explained how the kids aren't dirty animals.

I asked Lisa how many bibs were in the laundry bag.  Lisa said there were seven.  Seven?!?!  How do you go through seven bibs over an eleven hour period?  Once again, my mom explained how the kids aren't dirty animals.

Grandma Ichikawa shocked me further with this bib incident by disclosing that she actually hand-washed a bunch of bibs this afternoon and tossed them into the dryer.  So how many bibs did my mom go through today?  Eleven!  Eleven stinking, soaking, saliva-ridden, not-a-dirty-animal bibs.

I really don't know how you go through that many bibs in one day.  Maybe your jaw muscles don't work and you can't close your mouth.  Or maybe you're a beauty pageant contestant trying to lose those last three pounds.  But the only explanation is really two words:  Grandma Ichikawa.  My mom is just a major neat freak.  I wouldn't say that she's OCD, but she is just a very clean person.  She's the type who wears white gloves to the theater not because she wants to look classy, but rather she doesn't want to touch the armrest because who knows what dirty little whore sat there previously.

Despite the craziness my mom presents to us on a daily basis, both Lisa and I are very happy and lucky that my parents are willing to move down here temporarily to babysit the kids.  And ultimately it becomes a financial necessity because without both of us working how would we be able to provide my mom enough bibs to sate her saliva aversion. 

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