Grouchy

http://seanlinnane.blogspot.com/2009/10/penguins.html

Izzy caught a snot bug last week and it seemed like it was going to pass swiftly, but then it turned out to be a pretend express virus and the Bean actually got snottier and altogether declined in the snot department throughout the weekend, and then I got sick with some despicable cold virus, the vicious kind that attacks you out of the blue and leaves you with a paprika-red nose, so methinks Izzy and I are playing snot-bug-ping-pong with each other, passing our mutated viruses back and forth, and I can safely say that Izzy handles her rhinorrhea with much more sweetness and dignity than yours truly, even though nobody is wrestling me to suction my nose in the middle of the night. On the flip side though, if we decide to go to a Halloween party (yeah, right) or trick-or-treat-ing (ha!), I can just go as Rudolph the red-nosed deer of the tundra thanks to the constant nose-blowing, or perhaps as a lady zombie due to the constant wakening throughout the night, but I guess I would have to be a slutty reindeer or a slutty lady zombie, to conform to the customs commercially available to the female celebrators of the eve of All Saint's Day. 

I know, it's impossible to tell, but having a cold makes me slightly grumpy and my grouchiness is exacerbated by the fact that I can neither smell or taste anything, or in fact, eat anything that involves persistent chewing, because I can't close my mouth long enough, not to mention that I consistently get up at 2 or 3 in the morning to suction Izzy, shortly after I finish feeding-medicating-breathingtreatmenting her at midnight. This morning I held out till 5:30 before I permanently got up to feed Izzy, yielding to her consistent attempts to kick me out of bed. By the way, the Bean turned into an eating machine and I swear she digests her food by the time I finish feeding her and turn her pump off. If she keeps growing at this rate, we can start sharing clothes in a couple months. 

Due to the overwhelming amount of snot in our household, this morning was not the best time to have our regular nursing assessment done; however, it was long overdue, so much so that the agency couldn't send out our nurse until the assessment was done, so I had no other scheduling choice. The "assesser" was perfectly sweet, and it was absolutely not her fault that I kept thinking how utterly tired I am to answer the same exact questions over and over and over and share Izzy's birth and medical history and medications and other personal details with various strangers at various times at various assessments (and I mean strangers and not our therapists who know and love Izzy.) I'm well aware that this process is necessary for receiving services and the interviewer is just doing his or her job and I am sincerely grateful for all the services we receive blah blah blah blah blah blah, but sometimes I get this rebellious little urge to tell the interviewer that it's really none of his or her business when my daughter's next GI appointment is or when her last bowel movement was or what were the circumstances of her birth or whether or not I had known that she was going to be born with a syndrome (slight accusatory undertone, only dissipates when I'm found 'not guilty' of knowingly bringing a disabled child into this world). And sometimes I have this evil little voice nudging me to say at the end of the assessment: "So how about you? Do you have any medical problems? Your kids have any issues? When was YOUR last bowel movement?" But of course, I would never do that.