I’ve had a steady stream of well-wishers and people coming to meet my daughter over the past three weeks, including my oldest sister, her husband, my nephew, and my parents. One of those evil villains has gotten both my daughter and I sick with colds. Most likely not my angel nephew, whose nose was running like a faucet while kissing my daughter.
Curing the cold for me is easy. I used to wait until I had the next day off work. Then, I’d come home from work, make some “soup” (Buffalo Trace Bourbon), pass out, wake up, grab some generic-brand effervescent cold medicine, and alternate between naps and Netflix. The hangover usually trumped the cold, and by 7 p.m. I was ordering Chinese food delivery (Chopsticks House is the best way to go). This process now has a couple of drawbacks that I can see.
First of all, there are now two sick people in the house. The child is too young to be partaking in any of my cold remedies. So apparently, when your newborn has a cold, you have to put salt water in her nose and then suck it out with a turkey baster. This seems almost like a medieval remedy, akin to putting leeches on her (calm down, hippies, I don’t care if your organic leeches make you feel better—that works for you). If there is one thing a child hates, it’s this practice. They do tend to make ridiculous faces the whole time, which is cute, but then they start crying and attempting to rip your heart out.
Secondly, I can’t partake in any of my remedies except taking my brand-name effervescent cold medicine. Bourbon suddenly has gone untouched for weeks at my house. I’ve poured myself one glass since I’ve had the kid, and that was a congratulatory toast from a bottle a friend brought me. I started a mint garden earlier this spring with the thought of spending my “free time” sipping mint juleps and reading Cormac McCarthy and Elmore Leonard. What a mistaken fool I am.
My daughter is fantastic. I’d give up my old life ten times over for her. Still, it’s a daily struggle to figure out this new way of doing things.
