Motherhood FAIL of the Week: Up to Nose Good

The Muffin Man absolutely hates having his nose cleaned.  I'm pretty sure his dislike of having his nose cleaned is equal to the hatred I feel for some of my ex-boyfriends.  Unfortunately, cleaning my kiddo's nose is a necessary evil, especially as it appears that he has inherited his Father's allergies to pretty much anything with scent (the man can't even walk down the laundry soap aisle at the supermarket.  It's an affliction).  As a result, Noah often has dirty nasal cavities.  We're talking crusty, gross, sometimes kinda bloody, dried gunk up in there that really has to be taken care of, both because it's a health issue and because the kid can't breathe.  He crawls around making a terrible whistling noise as the air struggles to make it's way past the barrier of nose dirt.  I can't imagine that this is a pleasant sensation, but apparently my child prefers slow suffocation to having his nose wiped.  Now before all of you leave comments or send me emails suggesting that I purchase the oh-so-fabulous Nosefrida, I already own this little gadget.  It certainly seems like a wonderful invention, and perhaps if I had a different child I would be singing its praises, but Noah is not a fan.  In fact, every time I've tried to use the Nose Freida I have been rewarded with him grabbing it out of my hand and swinging it with such force that I thought at one point that he actually broke my nose.  It's amazing how much damage a piece of plastic can do when wielded by an incredibly strong and very angry ten month old.  In fact, I'm sporting a sexy bruise on my eye right now from the aforementioned object that makes it appear as though I am a victim of domestic abuse, so I would say that qualifies as an epic Nosefrida Fail.

Anywho, I do have to fight the good fight and clean Noah's nose at least once per day.  I often do this in the bath, as he's sometimes so distracted by squirting me with his eco-friendly bath toys that he often doesn't notice that I'm digging around in his nose until it's too late.  Unfortunately, last night was not one of those times.  The kiddo had been walking around all day with a disgustingly clogged nose, so of course I'd been looking forward to giving him a bath and remedying the situation post haste.  I scrubbed him down, handed him a toy to play with, and moved in for the kill, only to have my hand rudely batted out of the way.  I tried several more times, to no avail.  Finally, in utter desperation, I figured I would give it a shot after bath time while Noah was enjoying his nighttime bottle.  I got him dressed in his pjs, handed him over to the Hubby, and stealthily planned my attack.  With a lightly-oiled cotton swab in hand, I pounced: I stuck that swab into my son's nostril while he was distracted by warm milk and Goodnight Moon.  He was so taken aback, so shocked at this unwelcome invasion into his sacred nasal cavities, that he jerked forward with a force that caused the swab to jab violently into his nose, which resulted in a gush of blood pouring forth from the molested nostril.  He started wailing uncontrollably, blood poured out of his nose at an alarming rate, and I felt like the Wicked Mother of the West.  Thankfully, we got the bleeding under control quickly, and another round of warm milk and Goodnight Moon soothed the savage ten month old.  It doesn't appear that I've caused him any permanent physical damage, but I suppose if I did mess up his nose somehow I can comfort myself with knowing that we live in the right town to find a doctor to fix it.  I still feel bad about giving my kiddo a bloody nose, but the good news is that his nasal hemorrhage appears to have cleaned out any lingering dirt, so Noah is safe from my ministrations for at least one day.  But I just may revisit using the Nosefrida tomorrow.