The name “Mother of Drool”, a play on words from “Mother of Pearl”, describes the paradox I feel between the ugly and beautiful parts of parenthood.  I have the incredible privilege of shaping this amazing little person.  It reminds me of the safety and nurturing environment an oyster provides to form a pearl.  The love, patience, and effort forms something admirable, precious, and valuable within those two shells.

But one thing’s for sure, the process isn’t always pretty.

My offspring’s ability to produce an unruly amount of spit up demonstrates the grossness of parenting.  My daughter could fill a “Big Gulp” cup in no time with the nasty stuff.  The curdled white slime has adorned every part of my home. Today M (the nickname we use for my daughter) spit up so much that I had it running down my back, down my chest into my bra, streaming into my arm pit, running down the back of my leg, and there was still plenty more to create that dreaded “splat” noise on the floor.

The paradox of beauty that comes from dealing with the undesirable parts of child rearing hit me just like the splat of milk drool that landed on the floor.  Great things come from great effort.

And the Mother of Drool blog was born.