5 down, 15 to go...

Right. The Snot Queen is throwing a tantrum. It seems that either she's ridiculously over tired and desperately needs a nap or else she's been possessed by demons whilst my back was turned. Either way, according to her at least, her little world is ending and it's all my fault. Even just looking at me can bring on a bout of head and body thrashing rage which can only end in tears as she invariably accidentally whacks herself on some random surface.

Whatever happened to my lovely, placid child with the ever present smile who loved her mammy and spent her days doling out kisses and napping for Ireland? Who is this squalling, crusty nosed imposter with the red face and angry eyes who fights sleep like a seasoned warrior, her battle cry ringing out loud and clear as her willful eyelids attempt to drift closed?

We are now well into day three of the napping strike. My nerves are shot and my patience is wearing desperately thin. I'm developing a small twitch and just yesterday discovered a grey hair in my thick, dark mane that had not previously been there. My work is falling by the wayside as my poor brain is even mushier then normal. Just yesterday, I caught myself about to put the Orange Juice into the cups and mugs cupboard instead of back into the fridge where it belongs.

The nights are just as bad. Tired beyond the point of reason, the enfant terrible cannot settle down and so wakes reglarly to rage against the universe that has so forsaken her. Myself and my partner take turns trying to soothe the infant overlord who in turn rejects our overtures with a mix of scorn and derision.

Of course, this sudden hatred of all things sleep related is not without reason. I see the flushed cheeks and the drool soaked pajamas. I can't help but notice the frequent nappies and red, rashed chin and it is this which helps me to keep my last shred of sanity intact.

My baby is teething. She's not being deliberately horrible, she's in pain and has no other way to show it.

As a friend of mine frequently says, and indeed, this phrase has gotten me though more sleepless nights then I can count...

"This too shall pass"

And in my limited experience, it always does.

Tots and snots

The Snot monster has once again invaded our home. For what seems like the 8 millionth time this winter, my lovely little girl is covered in a thick layer of wet, gelatinous, snot. She isn't upset by it, why would she be? It's become her default setting. The slimy darling would probably be lost without the slippery trail she leaves behind her. How else would she find her way from one room to the next? How else would she know EXACTLY which of her blocks she'd already played with if the used ones weren't coated in crusty, dried on, mucous?

I swear to god, this has been the most infectious, disgusting winter on record. Everywhere we go, there are children coughing, sneezing, oozing, vomiting... basically just excreting vile and infectious fluids from any and all orifices and I for one am sick of it. (Yes. For your information, that pun was completely intentional.)

I am sick of family, friends and strangers alike giving her "concerned eyes" every time she so much as sniffles whilst looking at me as though I have "negligent parent" stamped on my forehead. No, I do not neglect my daughter. Yes, I dress her warmly when we go out. No, I do not fed her junk and yes, I know that cleanliness is next to godliness.

She is a baby. Babies get sick. It is a fact of life. Their immune systems don't mature until they are somewhere in the vicinity of two years old and getting sick is how they strengthen and build it. Rationally, I understand this. But being pregnant and the mother of a child who in her thirteen months of life has spent more time in quarantine then out of it and who regularly covers my breasts as well as my favourite wardrobe items in snot before spreading her disease to the rest of the household does not lend itself to rationality. Especially when I am the one left holding the disinfectant whilst "baby plague" morphs into "man flu" in the blink of an eye.

She has had sniffles and coughs and colds and flus. When she was about 6 months old she got the "baby measles" and at 10 months caught the real thing. She's had more fevers then you can shake a stick at (though what good shaking a stick would do I've no idea!) and regularly causes shares in Kleenex to fly through the roof. The vomiting bug spent it's Christmas holidays with us and just recently recommended us to it's good friend the rota virus.

I thought that with the coming of the good weather, we might get a bit of respite and indeed, for a week or two there, things were looking good... And then, on Saturday morning, she sneezed.

Oh well, at least it's not green.