Never once mentioned in that What to Expect book

I'm totally going to be a nurse. A registered nurse. Hopefully a registered nurse on a labor and delivery floor. There will be blood and amniotic fluid and barf and poo. I'm okay with all of that, believe it or not. I mean, I'll have gloves, and I can totally handle it.

Here's where I admit my Achilles heel: snot. I have major, major issues with snot. Literal gagging with watery eyes issues. I just hope and pray that a) there's not a lot of snot on a L&D unit (And please, don't comment to tell me you deal with snot on a daily basis. I don't wanna know right now) or b) I get used to it. Fingers crossed, eh?

The other day I had all the kids in the car on our way to my mom's house. We were peacefully driving, humming along to the radio when I hear Big D say, "Smella! What is THAT?"

I glanced in my rear-view mirror at Smella. There were...smeary, viscous marks on her window. I reflexively gagged.

"Smella, what did you do?" I asked. "Did you just wipe your nose on the WINDOW?"

She nodded and then I died.

"You can't ever, ever, EVER do that!" I shrieked. And at this point, Big D is chiming in with me. Perhaps snot phobia is hereditary?

"But mom," she says sensibly, "I didn't have a Kleenex."

I may have shrieked at her a little more about grossness and responsibility and asking for a motherfucking piece of paper or grocery bag or something before doing that again. I think she got it. I hope she got it. Or I'll have to seriously consider leaving her on the side of the road the next time that happens.

Big D will help me.