Snot Pretty

Any new mommy’s worst fear is that their babies will get sick. Until now, we’ve been fortunate enough not to experience this. Mommy brought the germies into the house.

After 9 months, the most gruelling days have arrived. Both babies are sick for the first time. UGH! I’m not talking about a little sniffle and a wee ahh-choo. We’re facing the brunt of any nasty cold; sneezing, coughing, congestion, sore throats, runny noses, yellow crusts of snot in their nostrils, and the smelliest, filthiest shits you’ve ever seen.

Side note: I’m not the kind of mom that penny-pinches when it comes to these types of disasters. You ruin your pants, they’re going in the trash. No way will I scrub the turd out of your pjs, throw it in the wash and it still leave a stain. You wreck it, to heck with it!

There are boogers in their spit-up and bags under their eyes. They take breaks from their bottles because they can’t breathe through their nose. They’re sleep deprived, miserable, and are wearing the saddest faces I’ve ever seen. It’s brutal.

For all you worried mamas out there, I’ll point out now that they are both fever-free!

While they want more attention, more cuddles, and more Kleenex, I’m happy to comply. Never has any (fellow sickie) mommy dug deeper into the purse of patience. I push my heavy head and dripping nostrils aside and tend to my babies because, when put into perspective, they’re LITERALLY facing the first cold of their itty-bitty lives! That is, aside from the day they left their warm, cushy sacks and were born without any say in the matter.

Truthfully, I kinda like it. They’re building their immune systems AND I’ve never felt more motherly than I do right now. My heart goes out to my snotty spawn and I just want to make them feel better. If they could ask for cupcakes right now, I’d totally give it to them. I’m sure this is the kind of attention that the “man cold” sufferer seeks.

The mom vibes are surging at full capacity! I’ve never felt so “mom”. Like, I mom. But, this is the type of mom-ing that you think of being classic mom; tucking you in, feeding you soup, kissing your forehead. I’m doing it, guys!

So, I’ve learned that there’s taking care of your babies, and then there’s really taking care of your babies.


The Devil Wears Diapers

If you’ve ever had a baby, you understand the pure hell that is teething. One baby has the power to bring you to your knees, arms raised above your head, shouting what you’d give to end it all. You’d sell your soul, but this baby already owns it. And remember I have two. So I expect double the sympathy.

These demons are 8 months old and have been teething for an eternity. AN. ETERNITY.

Every day we endure the lighting bolts of screams and scalding whines. The endless cries from exhaustion. The bipolar-esque switch from glee to misery.


At 8 months old, not a single tooth has popped.

And those damn teething toys and tricks don’t work. Nothing works. Aside from passing out mid-play or post-meal, the only thing that distracts them from their swollen gums is watching Baby Einstein on YouTube.

HALLELUAH! We have a saviour.

Before babies, I was all, “If I ever have kids, I am limiting their TV time! No way will I let my spawn be glued to a screen.” Meanwhile, I’m glued to my phone.

Was I ever deluded.

When TV is the only source of salvation, you have no choice but to give in. But Baby Einstein? Really? I often think, “How can my babies enjoy such puny plots? I could make these if I had an abundance of toys, a solid white wall, and a steady camera!” Baby Einstein is just a series of toys, babies, music, and high-pitched jabbering.


The other option that helps us claw our way out of hell is drugs.

While we don’t do this often (enough!), baby doses of Advil is liquid magic. When we reach our wits end, and I’m sure when the girls have reached their own, they get the syringe.

JUDGE ME. I don’t currrrrrrrrrrrrr.