Things that don’t belong in noses…

This week my husband and I leveled up in parenting. Cricket snagged an apple from the fruit bowl Sunday night for a pre-dinner snack. I heard her give a little cough and glanced over to make sure she hadn’t started to choke. She stood there beside the table with her eyes wide and her arms stiff at her side.

“Honey, are you okay? Did you get some down the wrong pipe?”

“Is in my nose.”

“You got some apple up your nose?”

“No, da ticker.”

My brain kicked into overdrive for a few seconds trying to figure out what a ticker is.  “You’ve got a sticker in your nose? What sticker?”

“Da Apple ticker.”

“You rolled the apple sticker up and stuck it in your nose? Does it hurt?”

She nodded. I rubbed my face with my hands and tried not to panic. Visions of emergency room doctors with probes danced in my mind. I reminded myself that nose-stashing was bound to happen at some point. Thankfully, the sticker was shallow enough in her nasal cavity that I could see it with the flashlight.

Her dad trundled downstairs with the tweezers, and a moment later he had removed the offending label from her orifice. She grinned, did a little jig, and went back to eating her apple, leaving us to ponder what it is that makes a preschooler think that sticking and apple sticker up the nose would be a good idea.

Now according to the nifty book our pediatrician gave us when our first daughter was born, you’re not supposed to try to use tweezers to pull out objects from children’s noses. That can actually push the objects deeper. You’re supposed to have them gently blow it out.  But Cricket still doesn’t quite understand the difference between blowing and sniffing and the possibility that she would actually hork it back into the dark recesses of her sinuses were pretty high.  So we went with the tweezer route.

With a preschooler, there truly is never a dull moment.  They are just all id all the time with no reason whatsoever for most of the things they do.  It’s a wonder any of us make it past our 10th birthdays.  I hope this is the end of our nasal adventures, but I wonder what she has in store for us next.

Lack of Sleep + Pregnancy = Unhappiness

I’ve posted a few times about overdoing things and being punished by my body for it later on.  Usually this is because I’ve gotten involved in something I enjoy and I just want to keep going.  Some examples include my sister’s graduation from UCLA followed by a visit to the La Brea Tar Pits, Farmer’s Market followed by housecleaning followed by having 20 people over for a barbecue, and shopping all day for new clothes for the Grasshopper.  In all of these cases, I was just having so much fun that I didn’t want to stop.  And I paid for it the next day.  In fact, following that ill-fated barbecue, I was laid up for several days.  It was bad news.

Well, I’ve done it again, except this time, it’s not my fault!  I swear!

Last night, after putting sweet Grasshopper to bed and going to be myself, I woke up to the second most dreaded night-time noise: the sound of our 7-year-old boxer throwing up in our bathroom.

Our carpeted bathroom.

(Yeah, I know.  Carpeted bathrooms are disgusting.  We completely agree.  The house came that way, and we haven’t gotten the chance to make the change.  If you want to volunteer to cut and lay the tile, we’ll pay you with hugs and yummy South American cooking.)

For those paying attention, you’ll notice that this is only the second most dreaded night-time noise.  The first most dreaded nighttime noise is the sound of dog pee hitting the carpet.  She’s seven.  She’s had bladder issues since we got her.  She’s pretty good about it usually, but sometimes she forgets to ask and lets loose on the rug.

For Sale:  Dog.  Real cheap.

I’m kidding.

Sort of.

At any rate, at 2 o’clock this morning, I awoke to the “HORK HORK HORK” sound of my dog barfing on the rug.  Normally, I would let my husband handle it since a good, solid block of sleep is pretty critical to me to help avoid hyperemesis gravidarum punishment later on.  Last night, though, he wasn’t here, so the middle of the night puke patrol fell to me.

So I hauled my sorry carcass out of bed and walked downstairs to let her out.  She went right out the back door, turned around and looked at me.

It was a stand-off.

She obviously didn’t feel like throwing up anymore, and I didn’t want to let her in until she finished whatever it was she needed to finish.  Eventually, I relented and let her back in.  I grabbed the roll of paper towels and a plastic bag and headed upstairs to clean the mess.  The last thing I wanted to do was wake up to a room that smelled like dog barf.  Imagine?  My smell issues and dog puke stink?  Just kill me now please.

Thankfully, when I flipped on the bathroom light, I discovered that she had not, in fact, thrown up.  Thank heaven for small mercies.

So I went to bed to try to go  to sleep.  I even played my Hypnobabies “Deepening” hypnosis track.  For once, in my entire life, I did not fall asleep during a hypnobabies track.

Then, at 3:25 AM, “HORK HORK HORK!”  Oh, good gravy.  Really?

So up I got to let her out and again we had a standoff.

By this time, I had wised up.  I told the dog to lay down on her downstairs bed.  I figured, hey, if she pukes on the carpet, she pukes on the carpet.  I’ll worry about it later.  Then I shut my door and turned on the white noise machine.  Then I went to bed again.  And again tried-and failed!-to go to sleep.  This time I tried the Hypnobabies “Joyful Pregnancy Affirmations” track.  No luck.

At 4:15 AM, just after I managed to drift off to sleep, I hear a muffled “hork hork hork hooooooork” drifting up the stairs.  I tried to tune it out.  I really did.  There is just something about that sound, though, that is just hardwired into my brain to wake me up completely and put me on edge.

I finally managed to drift off into a light cat nap.

6:15 AM.  Dog nose in my face telling me that it’s time to wake up fill the food dish.  Much cursing and grumbling ensues.

The good:  She never did actually throw up.  She just made a racket all night.

The bad news: I got almost no sleep during the latter half of the night.

What does this mean for my hyperemesis gravidarum?  That remains to be seen.  This morning, I actually seemed to be doing okay.  I did hop on the caffeine bus with a big cup of green tea in the morning and a glass of iced tea at lunch, but I can feel the exhaustion kicking in.

I am preparing myself for some pretty serious unpleasantness this evening.

Thank goodness for cold, leftover pizza and Yo Gabba Gabba.  They will be my saving grace tonight.