Wednesday, September 14, 2005

And The Nose Drips, Drips, Drips. . .

Do you know how difficult it is to nurse a baby in the middle of the night when your nose is flowing like a garden hose?

Pretty goddamned difficult.

You have to tilt your head down in order to get Baby attached, but can't tilt so far that Baby is in the line of fire. After Baby gets going, you must carefully try to keep your head at just the right angle. Back enough so that the sinuses aren't out of control, but forward such that you're still able to see Baby and make adjustments (if your Baby is like my Baby--many adjustments are necessary, and often, at the beginning of any good nursing session).

No, not that far, forward a bit, maybe to the side. Okay, now the other side. Or not. Drip.

Oh, and you can't cough, sneeze, sniffle, clear your throat, swallow, or otherwise move or make noise or else Baby will suddenly open her eyes wide and smile even wider and then you're both Up. And you also can't even THINK about coughing, sneezing, etc. because that just makes it even harder NOT to cough, sneeze, etc.

That was me last night, and also, tonight! Although, I will say that Baby has been more cooperative tonight, and has gone back to sleep more readily and stayed asleep and wasn't too disturbed by my sniffles.

Here are some of my I'm-Up-Nursing-And-Sniffling-And-Trying-Hard-Not-To-Move musings:

I begin by trying to work out the meter of some of the songs from The Phantom of the Opera, belatedly realizing that this is too much like a puzzle or problem and I've accidentally turned on my brain and now I'll never get back to sleep.

Snape--Good or Evil? I'm leaning toward Good, however, I am presently bothered by the fact that Rowling ALWAYS refers to him as "Snape"--never "Professor Snape," except when it's pointed out by Dumbledore or McGonagall. It's not just Harry who drops the "Professor"; it's Rowling. She (and Harry) even used "Professor" with that foul Umbridge woman. Is it a clue?

I'm on an Important Mission for Some Crucial Reason. I am on the verge of being discovered by Bad Guys. It is only through sheer willpower and mommy-training that I am able to control my sinuses and sneezing reflexes so that I may discover the Answer to some Critical Question before blowing (pardon the expression) my cover.

I really don't have it so bad after all, because I could have lived in Olden Times when they didn't have such wonderful luxuries as DayQuil or big comfy leather easy chairs. I should just shoulder my burden as I'm sure Abigail Adams or Laura Ingalls Wilder did and quit my (silent, inside the head) bitching. I should feel a sense of community with those women and the millions more who went before me. I should, but I don't. I just want to whine and complain and be pitied. Damn those pioneering women anyhow! They're making us all look bad! I'll never watch your show again, Laura Ingalls Wilder!

Just a peek into the noggin....there's more, but I'm actually beginning to feel sleepy again (finally!). So, I'll go upstairs, lie down, and drift off to sleep. I predict that Baby will awaken precisely 3 minutes and 42 seconds after that.

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