It gets ugly. It gets explicit. I warned you.

I doggone done it, I really jinxed us.

Liam's cold that started three weeks ago went away a little, then came back in the form of Snotgate '08. There were two days there, where there was so much stuff coming out of his nose that I was afraid he'd dehydrate or something. And this time, he figured out he could touch it. Do you know what a sixteen-month-old boy does when he discovers that he can touch his runny boogers? He smears them. He touches his little fingertips to his nostrils, and wipes. Boogers on the cheeks. Boogers on the top of the nose. Boogers on the chin. Boogers in the mouth.

And as it turns out, sixteen-month-old boys do not like to see their loving mother coming at them with yet another tissue or washcloth or any available and expendable piece of cloth, like the sock that was already destined for the hamper or dad's bandanna that's always laying around, because he knows it means I will hold the back of his head and wipewipewipe until his face is no longer glistening in goo.

And in case you think it's gross for me to wipe my son's nose with a dirty sock, know this: it's one of his own socks, and he has sweet baby feet so it's not so bad, plus I only wipe with the top of the sock. And then it goes straight into the hamper, where it belonged in the first place.

Anyway.

I came down with it Sunday night. I lay on the couch with a piece of toilet paper lodged in my nostril to stop the leak. I had to change it frequently. My head was pounding and I couldn't stop sneezing. My throat hurt. When I went to bed I started crying because I CAN'T GET SICK. Who will do the dishes? Who will vacuum the living room? Who will organize the recycling? Gabe comforted me, saying, "Until I go back to work on Wednesday, you won't have to lift a finger. Don't worry about it. Just get some rest." He brought me a cup of water and some nighttime decongestant, and I was out like a light until 10:30 am. Well apparently he had a conversation with me when he came to bed but I don't remember it.

Then later on Monday Gabe came down with it, but less dripping and more congestion. And do you know what it's like to have two sick parents with a sick kid? SUCKS.

Liam's nose is still a little runny and he has volcanic sneezes. Yesterday he had diarrhea all day. Fortunately he has no fever and is not acting sick. This morning, after my nighttime decongestant induced coma good night's rest, Gabe and I switched places and he went back to bed.

And then the Poopsplosion of the Century happened. Liam had been running around, playing peek-a-boo from behind his pack & play with me when I smelled it. I didn't think anything of it, as yesterday's diarrhea was accompanied by a hilarious symphony of fart sounds and this time I heard nothing. I figured maybe his poop was back to normal. I got him, laid him down on his back, and was taking his jammie pants off when I felt it. The wetness. At the bottom of his pant leg. At first I thought he'd spilled Pedialyte from his cup. Then I saw it. The trail. All the way back up his leg. I called Gabe out of bed to come help me contain the mess. Poopsplosions are not a one-person job. It was EVERYWHERE inside his diaper and pants.

By some wonderful luck he didn't even grab at it. You know how babies do that? Awesome.

After it was cleaned up, Liam got a nice warm bath and then some more daddy time as I looked up the doctor we took him to three weeks ago. He goes in later this afternoon. I try not to freak out but I think diarrhea was one of the things the doctor had told us to watch for.

Liam's napping now, and I keep having flashbacks of the Poopsplosion and wondering what I would have done if it had happened while Gabe was at work. Oh the horror!

I don't know what to say in closing now, after all that poo and booger talk. So, um. Have a nice day.

xoxo Nora