First of all, do you mind if I just call you “Common Cold?” I feel as though we’ve known each other long enough, despite not having a formal introduction, that I can call you by your nickname. After all, we’ve spent at least one month a year, hand-in-hand, eating, breathing and sleeping together. You were with me during each finals week in college and my honeymoon in San Antonio. And, let’s not forget all of those musical endeavors — singing contests and theater gigs — where you settled in with me, transforming me from a soprano to a baritone every time.
For nearly every major event in my life, you’ve been there, lending a virus-y hand to help me remember that nothing is ever perfect. Good times — good memories.
And, you’ve introduced yourself to my kidlets. The Little Lady and Mr. Boy have been playing with you for nearly 3 weeks now. Only, their time with you has been, shall we say, a little less pleasant than my experience.
The Little Lady has a toddler sized “sexy phlegm voice” — thanks to the mountains of mucous you’ve sent her way. And, Mr. Boy? Well, my pint sized little man has learned to blow snot bubbles. Four and a half months old and he can already out perform any little “gross-obsessed” seven year old. He’s an over-achiever like that.
Both of them have become expert mouth breathers. Expert snot snorters and suckers. And, their coughing skills? They sound like adults — hacking away morning, noon, and night.
All of this would be manageable if it were not for the one addition I never experienced during my childless years: sleeplessness.
Oh, yes, Common Cold — just when I had grown accustomed to life with you . . . grown used to the effects from your friendship, you added a new factor to the equation. A new way to make things exciting. You took away the kidlets’ ability to sleep soundly through the night. Coughs, sniffles, snorts, and dry mouth breathing keep them in and out of sleep.
Thanks for that. I had no idea that sleep was so overrated until I stopped having it on a regular basis. So what if I haven’t slept more than two hours, in a row, during all of 2010? What better, more memorable, way could there be to start out a new year?
And as far as the kidlets — this is only making them stronger, right? Introducing them to how the real world works — a world that runs on caffeine for a reason.
Despite these life lessons, I have to admit I think we’re ready to go back to business as usual. We’ve enjoyed our time with you — and the excuse to drink barrels of orange juice and slurp miles of chickeny noodles. You’ve given us the right to wear our pajamas day and night and curl up under warm, fluffy afghans. And, I’ll admit it, it was fun trying out our new Neti Pot and all of the other cold-remedies sold in stores (hey, it’s another excuse to shop, right?).
But, it’s time to return to the life we had before your arrival. A time when we (the kidlets and I) each could use both of our nostrils. A time when we weren’t aware of our post-nasal passages. A time when we didn’t spend half of our day blowing our noses (or being subjected to a nasal aspirator, in the case of Mr. Boy).
Please don’t think me rude, I’m just ready for our normal routine — day and night. I’m ready to join friends and family on outings and birthday parties, as opposed to what we’re doing now: staying shut up at home, trying to keep you to ourselves.
So, I was thinking this weekend should be our last one together. How does that sound? I’m sure you’re ready to move on as well — there must be other people you’re ready to visit.