Woman of the Year-and the award goes to...

Reader discretion is advised. Not for the tender tummied.

It has kind of been one of those weeks-you know the type. After scraping curdled vomit from Isaac's favorite stuffed bear and washing his sheets for the third time that day I began to think that I am a good, tough and nurturing woman. This really is a big deal to me since my natural instinct is to torch the linens , replace the furniture, strip Isaac and spray him down outside then bath him in Lysol. I wouldn't consider myself a paranoid germ freak...just not a puke person. I am usually the type that gets quezy at the thought, sight, sound and smell of vomit. Not just puke but bodily fluids of any type. I would hold a grudge if anyone so much as gleeked on me. Major slobber complex. Like many things, I attribute this to my childhood.

Growing up my big sister knew my one vice, the Wet Willy! She was ruthless. And it didn't stop at the Willies either. She would do the lick slap where she would lick her fingers and then slap your arm giving you a big red welt. However, the most despicable act, on the cusp of being an unpardonable sin, was when she would pin my shoulders down and let her spit dangle dangerously close to my forehead then suck it up and repeat. Sorry to digress but is it any wonder I have issues?

However, I am amazed at what motherhood has done to me. Back to vomit. Not only did I "deal" with my son's puke, I was dealt upon. Isaac ralfed as I was holding him. The wretched substance landed on my neck, slid right down my shirt and rested nicely in between my boobs. But I was AMAZING! I didn't scream, swear or toss the child away as I assumed the fetal position. I calmly and quickly brought him over to the sink and let him finish (while rubbing his back mind you) then cleaned him up before myself. I know, I am giving Mother Theresa a run for her money.

As if to polish another jewel on my crown in heaven, Mark came home early from work that same day. When he came through the door I said "hi honey". He shook his head and ran to the bathroom. Next thing you know I am making midnight trips to the store to pick up ginger ale and sherbet. I even sat next to him as...you know... and rubbed his back while he got candid with the crapper. Remember what I said about the thought, sight, sound and SMELLS. Once again, I was AMAZING!

Women work hard. We have to do some pretty unpleasant stuff. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that "I don't do anything special or noteworthy; after all, I just stay home and take care of a kid most of the day." Often times I focus on the things that I am not. "I'm not crafty, I'm not organized, I'm not trendy, I'm not a blogger (until now) , I'm not blah blah blah!" But whether I get the Woman of the Year Award or not, it doesn't matter because I dealt masterfully with the puke situation this week. I was surprised to discover so many of latent capabilities and strengths. That is pretty special and noteworthy in my book...which I get to write...and decide what goes in it...and what awards will be given out.

This award goes to you. Thank you for all of the amazing and nasty things you do!