Because I do it all the time. Like every day – several times a day.
Sometimes with cooperation from the “pickee,” and sometimes with resistance that requires a full nelson and lightning fast reflexes for success. But pick that nose I will. Because I cannot abide boogers.
It all started with Oliver. He was one of those snorty newborns. The first night he was home from the hospital, I had to use that suction bulb thing that I found by his head in the hospital isolette. Shortly after his birth, a nurse demonstrated the mouth suctioning I was supposed to perform on him periodically. But after the first day, I decided that he was in little danger of choking on his own saliva. I almost didn’t keep the suction thing, but all the books said to steal everything in the room that wasn’t nailed down since I (i.e. my insurance company) had paid for it. So along with several boxes of cheap tissues and as many panty liners as I could grab, the suction thing traveled home with me via a bulging bag of hospital contraband.
And thank god – because I was beside myself trying to figure out how to stop the first night home snorting that must surely have been a precursor to something requiring a call to 911. I believe it was my aunt who woke up and suggested the suction thing. And I supposed that after climbing over her to reach the baby supplies drawer on the other side of the pull out couch, it was the least I could do to take her advice.
Worked like a charm. His little nostrils were unplugged with two quick squeezes and my long standing career as an expert nose cleaner was born.
Saline drops were another tool in my booger fighting arsenal, and I had the entire process down to a science. After a brief rookie period in which I actually sprayed the solution instead of letting it drip – the first of many occasions upon which I unwittingly caused my children mild to severe discomfort – I had a seamless technique for maximum results with minimal crying.
And I used it frequently since for the first year of his life, Oliver had a perpetually stuffy nose. Other mothers make sure they don’t forget the pacifier when they leave the house – I double and triple checked for my snot supplies.
One of my favorite booger-related memories happened on a trip to visit my in laws in Phoenix. Halfway through the long flight I noticed that seven month old Oliver had an airway obstruction. And the size of what I extracted was unreal. I actually held it up for my husband to see, “oh my god – look how big this is!” His response? “Is that Oliver’s?!” I was scandalized into sarcasm, “no, it’s mine – OF COURSE it’s his!” I mean, really…
Anyway – once the twins came along, I had three victims upon which to hone my skills. I’ve even been called by neighbors for assistance with their newborns’ clogged nostrils long after the Hood children outgrew the suction bulb thing. As someone who birthed three babies in 18 months, I’ve gained a bit of a reputation as a parenting guru. One that isn’t in the least bit deserved with the exception of this one area. No one matches my booger removal mojo.
But years have passed, and while my three and five year olds do know how to use a tissue, I still feel the need to forcibly extract anything from their noses that might resemble something in the mucus family. It’s not quite an obsession…but it’s not far off.
In recent weeks though, I’ve wondered if it’s time to pass the torch. Those kicking feet and flailing fists can hurt. And really – where does it end? When someone breaks my arm? When my teenagers run away from home because living on the street sounds preferable to frequent sneak attacks from a booger obsessed mother?
I’m thinking that it’s time to stop the madness. But it’s going to be hard. You know, it’s allergy season, and the twins appear to have inherited their father’s Spring hay fever. I may have to find distractions – focus my attentions elsewhere.
I have to say, their ears can get very waxy. I wonder if it affects their hearing… Someone call Child Protective Services, I’m breaking out the Q-Tips.