Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

March 3, 2016

Dear Baby,

So you woke up this morning still sick coupling your crazy snot nose with a wicked cough. It’s honestly hard to believe that you have that much shit in your face. Your face is the size of a pea and I’m pretty sure you have snotted out 10 peas worth of boogers. 

It’s basically impossible to be a germaphobe when you have a sick baby. You sneeze, cough and spit on my face every 2 seconds and everything you touch gets gooey. You remind me of Slimer from Ghostbusters. Actually, that’s a perfect comparison. You look and act exactly like Slimer. 

Who you gonna call…. booger busters (aka your mom who is still also sick but doesn’t go ahead and sneeze in your mouth- it’s called manners, Baby). 

It’s really hard having you feeling sick. It’s hard to watch your poor little face slightly swollen from your tearing eyes and snotty nose (Slimer), it’s hard to listen to your laboured snotty breathing and wet cough (Slimer), and it’s hard to see you exhausted and trying to sleep but failing because you can’t breath properly.

It’s so hard in fact that it brought up the first fight your dad and I have had in a long time. 

Last night after being put to bed you woke up about 2 hours later crying and snotting. We came up to get you, suck up your boogers and nurse you back to sleep (fuck you, baby books- I do what I want). An hour later I was still rocking you and trying to help you fall back asleep. 

On the one hand, I would rock you forever if it would help you feel more comfortable. On the other hand, after an hour of it with the music of you crying and snorting at me- I was spent. I hate that moment with you when I feel my patience dwindling. It annoys me that I can’t be a more calm and collected person. 

When I lose patience I have to remind myself that you are a helpless little baby and not a SMALL DEMON CHILD SENT HERE TO DESTROY ME. 

In another world this would be the point that I would take a deep breath and check myself. I would look down at you and be reminded that there is nothing to be annoyed about and that another hour or several hours of rocking you is totally fine/ worth it. 

In this world it is in this moment that your dad ALWAYS decides to come in. I’m on the cusp of a reset and I see the door slowly opening and I know that I am going to just fucking kill him. 

In he came last night and it went something like this:

He asks me if you are ok. I don’t fucking know because I am just a frazzled mom but I tell him that I think you are ok and you just need to sleep. I lament that I really don’t want to have a night where I wake up with you crying every hour and he says “but we are doing it for her” (her being you, Baby). 



I fucking hate this response. Who else would I be waking up for? Who else would I spend 2 days at home nonstop holding? Who else would I miss eating, sleeping and bathroom ing for? 

In saying this he is shaming me. Like, reminding me that I can’t complain at all because I should be a better person/ mother than one who bitches about waking up in the middle of the night for her poor sick baby. 

I would never sleep again for you. I would literally do anything for you but I’ll be damned if I have to enjoy it. Who would? Name me one person who would be all like “YES! I love waking up in the middle of the night to go and nurse/ attend to my sick kid.” Offer me a sundae and pony rides and I still wouldn’t want to wake up. 

Anyways, this interaction obviously resulted in me telling him to get the fuck out which is NEVER what you should say to someone you love (or anyone) and him doing as I requested. This was kind of a “cut off your nose to spite your face” moment because then I was left alone with you crying again. 

He ended up coming back to our rescue (because he is an awesome man and father), you fell asleep and after all that- stayed asleep for the rest of the night. 

You woke up like a little goopy angel and now here we are- you asleep on me and me venting to the blog-o-sphere (woah, blog-o-sphere. Lame, mom). 

What’s the lesson we can learn from this? There must be something valuable here today for me to impart on you. 



Take care of yourself because being sick SUCKS. Seriously, take heed when I tell you to wear a scarf or put on a jacket or some other shit like that. You’ll be all like, whatever mom a jacket makes my super sweet crop top look fucking stupid and I’ll be all like, crop tops are fucking stupid (slash so awesome and I wish I could still wear them- but by then I’ll be more crotchety about fashion). And you’ll storm out of the house in your crop top sans jacket and come home with a cold and we’ll be back to this. 

And as much as I love taking care of you I love being with a fully happy and healthy you even more. 

So just wear your jacket, ok? And always drink water and don’t touch subway poles and wash your hands before you eat and don’t kiss sick people and take a vitamin. 




Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

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