Even on my best day, I am squeamish. I am not one of those moms who thinks my kid's excretions are cute, funny or even tolerable. I usually leave the messy part of parenting to R who has a much more evolved gag reflex that does not trigger at even the slightest of nose dribble or foul smells.
Last week Samara had what we thought was a cold. We dutifully suctioned her nose (while gagging), wiped her snot and held her when she was fussy. The cold passed. Or so we thought.
Now three of the five babies we went to a singalong with two weeks ago have come down withFifth Disease, a disgusting, highly contagious illness that includes mouth sores, a rash and a runny nose among its other delights. Furthermore, it appears to be a cold. Then the cold appears to go away. And then the real fun begins--a rash.
May I just say that nothing scares me more than a rash. I am regularly plagued by nightmares about rashes and skin disorders. This is a part of parenthood that I am not at all prepared to conquer--the sick part. The gross part. The overcoming my own phobias part.
So, now we are waiting for the rash I have named Godot. Soon enough he will appear. I just know it.