When did I stop batting an eye at having someone else’s bogeys on my fingers?
When did I start putting my hand out to catch someone’s sick?
At what point in my life was it funny when someone weed on my clothes?
When did me cleaning up sh*t that was all up someone’s back and in their belly button become a spectator sport in which anyone visiting would have to come help or watch? Laughing when I inevitably got poo on my hands.
When did it seem ok to sit in the house wearing clothes that had a little bit of sick on the shoulder?
When I became a mother.