This Cape's Not Just for Show... I Also Wipe Noses with It!

"Moms will clean up stuff that would make the Roto-Rooter man gag." ~Jeff Foxworthy


     This post is for all you moms out there that can totally, 100% relate to this.  If you're eating while reading this... do yourself a favor and finish what you're eating, then continue reading.  Also, if you have a squeamish stomach or if there are any small children in the room, you may not want to continue.  OK, it's not that bad, but don't say I didn't warn you.

     This has been my week to meet the mom job title head on.  First, Morgan woke up last Wednesday morning with a cold.  It started out normal enough:  a little congestion, a little coughing and sneezing, nothing out of the ordinary, definitely nothing I couldn't handle.  She's had a cold before and I dealt with it with flying colors.  This cold, however, was no ordinary cold.  This cold meant business and this cold was not going to go quietly.  By Wednesday night, Morgan was so stuffy, she couldn't even suck on her pacifier to fall asleep at bed time.  Brad and I had to use tag-team tactics to try and get her to sleep.  I would rock her for awhile, then tag him in for a quick break.  I'd catch my breath, wipe my face, put my mouthpiece back in, then head back into the ring for another round.  Finally, she fell asleep about 12:30 from pure exhaustion more than anything either of us did.  A call to the pediatrician was definitely in order the next day for something, anything, that could help her with this congestion and stuffiness.  Surely there would be something she could take!

     Overnight, the cold had mutated my adorable, sweet-faced child into a puffy-eyed, crusty-nosed, snotty-faced midget!  I felt so terrible for her!  A call to the doctor's office had me feeling even worse.  Being that she's only 7-months-old, she's too young to take anything besides Children's Tylenol.  Basically, we were going to have to wait out... The Cold (dum dum dummmmm).  The nurse's instructions were to use saline drops in her nose and suction it out frequently.  Easier said than done.  This is where all the moms reading can relate.  First of all, children, especially babies, don't understand that cleaning out their nose will help them breathe better.  To them, this is just a very scary, very unpleasant event that they want no part of whatsoever. Secondly, if you thought this would be a simple thing to do, just sit them down, lean their head back and suction, you'd be wrong.  Because children don't want any part of this, they will do everything possible to NOT be part of it.  This includes yelling, crying, squirming, arching their back, kicking their legs, turning their head from side to side, waving their arms, pushing your hand away, and anything else they can think of that might be an effective means of escape.  Needless to say, you have to wrap one arm completely around them, boa constrictor-style, to hold them still and keep their arms down, while your other arm tries to hold their head still and use the bulb syringe to suction out their little nose.  For those of you that aren't math majors, I'll help you with this next one.  What does one snotty-nosed, squirming child and one parent's arm wrapped around said snotty-nosed, squirming child equal?  You guessed it!  One parent's arm covered in snot.  Lovely.

     It's been over a week now and The Cold (dum dum dummmmm) is still with us.  That's over a week of snot-covered arms and a crusty little nose to clean and wipe, but as a parent, you do what you have to do to take care of your child, even if it means being covered in snot.  Morgan's nose hasn't been quite as runny the last couple of days, so we're hoping that The Cold (dum dum dummmmm) is growing bored with her and will soon be taking its leave.  I hate seeing my little girl sick, especially when there's nothing I can do to make her better!  All I can do is love her and cuddle her, snot and all, and pray for her to get well soon.

     Now, if I ended the post with that little story, you'd all be saying, well that wasn't so bad.  I can handle a little snot.  What kid doesn't have snot issues?  But, I'm not ending with that.  Oh yes, there's more, so if you thought it was safe to start munching on that popcorn again or to bring the little ones back out from hiding, think again (dum dum dummmmm).

     I was giving Morgan a bath the other night, nothing unusual.  We were going about our normal bath routine, as we always do.  First, I hold her head over the kitchen sink and wash her hair, then rinse with the sprayer.  She was born with a head full of hair, so I've found this is the most effective way to get it all washed and all rinsed well with minimum mess and fuss.  After I wash and rinse her hair, I lay her on a towel so I can take her diaper off (she's already undressed before the hair washing commences).  Normally, Morgan has her dirty diapers in the morning... about 90% of the time.  Knowing this, I assumed the odds were in my favor, as they usually are, and proceeded to slip her diaper off (no diaper wiping-- moms, you'll know what this is-- because she has her dirty diapers in the morning, right?  ...right?  ...riiiight???) and scoop her up in my arms to carry her into the bathroom for her bath.  Naturally, being the caring mother I am, I cradle her cute little bottom in my hand to support her.  OK, let's pause there and get the math majors back in here.  I'm sure you can all see where this is going.  Yep, this was one of those 10% times that Morgan decided to have her dirty diaper in the evening... right at bath time.  Alright math majors, do your thing!  What does one loving, caring, supportive parent's hand and one dirty diaper minus the diaper equal?  That's right!  One baby poo-covered parent's hand!  Very good!  As if that weren't enough, Morgan then spit-up all over herself and down my leg, just to add a bit more color to the scene.  I'm telling you, that girl's going to be an artist, I can feel it!  Quickly assessing the situation, I decided this was much too big a job to handle on my own... I would need reinforcements.  "I need help in here!"  Reinforcements came in the form of my husband, who took one look at the situation and "the situation" covering me, the towel and the baby, and turned green, flung the box of baby wipes at me and proceeded to bring up the 10-foot bubble of quarantine around me, towel and baby.  I turned Morgan over in my arms and began to wipe the contaminated area like a HAZMAT spill until she was clean enough to move to the wash-down mode of our decontamination.  After a generous portion of Johnson & Johnson Head-to-Toe Wash (and I do mean head-to-toe!), I had my sparkling child back.  (A special thanks goes out to Johnson & Johnson for this segment).

     Had enough?  No, I don't think you have!  There's a reason I put Supermom at the top of this post!  So, my husband and I have temporarily lost our minds and decided to have a garage sale this Saturday... in August... with the baby here.  Yes, we're nuts.  This afternoon, we went through the garage and separated everything into a "keep pile" and a "sell pile".  Most of our stuff is kept in plastic storage bins with cute little labels on them of what's inside because I'm a complete, anal-retentive whack-job.  Occasionally, one of my husband's dreaded cardboard boxes with random crap haphazardly thrown in will make it through my careful screening process and wind up stacked in the garage among the storage bins.  I was going through one of these rogue boxes today.  I opened one flap and saw where one of my decorative foam feather balls looked like it had exploded.  Hmmm, odd.  I lifted another flap to see where a basket had been frayed a bit here and there.  Strange as well.  The third flap lifted and revealed the culprit.  Tiny mouse poopies were scattered like confetti among the items in the box.  AHHH!  Now, I love animals just as much as the next person and little, furry mice can be cute, but when they're poopying on MY stuff, it's not cute!  Brad suggested I throw the entire box away, random items, mouse poopies and all.  In addition to being a complete, anal-retentive whack-job, I'm also a complete, anal-retentive pack rat that hates to throw anything away because I was taught my complete, anal-retentive family that it's wasteful and you can sell just about anything you no longer need or want.  My grandmother was the queen of garage sales, the stuff of legends.  With this thinking firmly planted in the nether regions of my subconscious, my first thought when he suggested this was "but there's good stuff in there that we can sell!"  OK, no need to panic.  I'll just remove the items very slowly, one at a time.  Oh good, this is a box of old Beanie Babies and there are 100 in here that each have to be taken out, one at a time, and shaken off!  And I was afraid this was going to be a quick and easy thing to have to deal with!  Luckily, after about 15 minutes of inspecting items, only three Beanie Babies, one decorative feather ball and one basket were harmed in The Great Mouse Caper of 2010.  The rebel mouse was never found, nor were his little mousy bones, so I'm assuming he eventually chewed his way out and went on about his little mousy life, but not before having one heck of a good time in that box!

     Thus ends the post about my disgusting week.  Having presented my story, I think it's only fair that the judges give me the Mom-of-the-Week Award, lest I wrestle it from your hands with my snot-covered arms!  And for those of you wondering, yes, I did scrub my hands for a good 10 minutes after handling the Beanie Babies and yes, they're in line for a good scrub down as well.