My responsibilities as a mom (to nurture and to love, to lead and to guide, to nourish and to protect) have all taken a back seat to gathering booger berries. Apparently, my primary job at this point in my daughter's life is to pick out her boogies. As delicious as this responsibility sounds, it isn't without its drawbacks. First, my daughter's life goal is to prevent me from reaching said boogies. Second, there's the incompatibility in the size of her nostril and the girth of any of my fingers. Third, there's the challenge in trying to insert what can only be described as a small turkey baster into her tiny nose without suctioning out her hypothalamus.
Why even bother with a boogie hunt? I don't want to do it, she doesn't want it done. Sounds like an amicable solution. Unfortunately, her nose hoards boogies like a Mormon mom hoards #10 cans of potato pearls. By 6am, Baby Dhis wakes up packed with mint mucus and not able to breathe. This is a full hour before I would like her to wake. It's a full two hours before *I* would like to wake. So, each day, the bugle sounds the hunt for the little green goblins.
Let me add that this sweet tiny angel has HUMONGOUS snot. Proportionally speaking, if I had a boogie as big as hers, I'd look like I had a green penny as a sewer cover for my nostril. (Lovely image, isn't it? Try not to stare the next time I see you.)
I am fully aware that this new addition to the Mom job description has cost me the last two Cool Points I had left. I lost my first few when I began adorning my daughter's peach fuzz head with a flower or bow while my hair stayed relegated to a banana clip. The uncoolness snowballed after I squealed at the sight of a diaper sale. No more Cool Points, nothing else to lose. Bring on the tapered-leg Mom Pants.
[Posted song: "Boogie Oogie Oogie" by A Taste of Honey]