Mama-Come-Lately

The baby has had a cold for the past four or five days. And so I added snot-wrangling and extra cuddling and gentle back-thumping to my usual routine. (He is much better today, and it was never serious, just sneezing and coughing and weepiness.)

I also added extra hand-washings and preventive neti pot sessions to my days. With a show coming up, I was determined not to catch this bug. And gig or not, I don’t like being sick. I mean, duh, who does, but when you have a baby to look after, you know that unless you are unable to crawl out of bed, you will still have to feed and diaper and play and wash and chase the baby. Only while foggy and grumpy and sneezy and weepy. Yay.

So there I was, scrupulously avoiding touching my face and nose, washing my hands after every few nose-wipings, keeping his snot-rags sequestered on a remote corner of the kitchen counter, resisting the urge to smooch his face, turning my head or holding my hand up to the baby’s mouth when he coughed near me.

And then yesterday, around 2:30, he sneezed into my mouth.

I’m still not quite sure how it happened. It was during a diaper change, and for some reason putting him flat on his back spurs sneezing and coughing, so I should have been on high alert. But usually he draws in a little breath before a sneeze. Not so this time. And I must have been singing or making a funny open-mouthed face to keep him from breaking down, because — this is gross, sorry — I felt sneeze particles land on my tongue.

I went off to sing feeling tired but not sick. I had fun and one glass of wine, woohoo! I went to bed late but not horrendously so. I woke up with a sore throat.

Next time the kid gets sick, I’m wearing a surgical mask during diaper changes.