I’m not going to write about babies every day. I swear. But for now, it’s all I know. She’s always there. Always. Like 24 hours, 7 days a week—just staring at me, reaching for me, waiting for me. She’s a stalker. And now, she’s got a cold. So she’s a clingly stalker. The worst kind.
Bringing your kid to daycare every day is like tossing her into the ball pit at Chucky Cheese and hoping she doesn’t come up patient zero in the zombie apocalypse.
This time, we have “a virus.” I say “we” because babies don’t get sick alone. How could they? They use your face as a snot rag.
So what do you think my teething, sick, exhausted baby is crying about here?
Any experienced mom knows that this as the face of a baby whose nose has just been wiped. What. The. F!? I’m the one who is covered in snot! It’s like I gave myself an egg wash. Ew. I know. If anyone should be crying it’s me.
We have a system now. I distract her while my husband sneaks up behind her with a grape scented Boogie Wipe and ruins her life. She whips her head back, growls in disgust, utters something that sounds like Latin and it all ends with me chanting, “May the power of Christ compel you.”
How did this happen? One day I was sipping martinis in a swanky Manhattan bar and the next day I was covered in baby snot. Wow. That must have been one hell of a roofie.