Obsessive Compulsive De-Boogering

I'm sure that this is just the first post of many about how I annoy my daughter.

Like many newborns, Grace's nose is stuffy most of the time.  She can't blow her nose and lays on her back almost all day, so snots tend to build up quickly.  Of course, we only discovered this after Grace was home for a week, which led to a panicked night and a first thing in the morning trip to the doctor, who assured us that everything was fine.  Then, she gave me a fateful instruction: regularly treat the baby with saline drops and keep her nose clear with a nasal aspirator.

And thus, an obsession was born.

Torture instruments of The Boogie Inquisition.

It's become my mission in life to combat the boogers that are infiltrating my beautiful girl's poor nose.  I analyze every noise she makes, interrupt feedings for visual inspections and, to Grace's great chagrin, administer the treatments.

First the drops, a messy endeavor which leaves half of her face soaked as she recoils from the dropper.  Then, worse, the aspirator, a medieval device for poking and prodding the deepest recesses of her sinuses.  What should be a minute of discomfort becomes fifteen minutes of maniacal hunting.  Annoyance registers with my baby and stink eyes are doled out with incredible frequency.

Someone call my hair a therapist.

The worst part is, I know firsthand how it feels to be traumatized by parental obsession.  By own father had a deeply unhealthy need to cut my hair evenly.  Some of my first memories are of sitting on a chair in the bathroom and staying still, impossibly still, for what felt like hours as my dad studied one side of my head then the other only to judge his work imperfect and begin cutting again.  The stress of perfectionism and fear of inevitable scissor nicks still haunts me to this very day.  In fact, I think the reason that my hair is falling out is not genetics but a residual effect of my ordeal.  My hair is actually afraid of reliving this experience and think it would be safer in my shower drain than on my head.

Barber issues aside though, my pops did a great job with my sister and me, the type of job I'm trying my best to do.  But, regardless of my effort and intentions, I'm inevitably going to find ways to break Baby Grace.  If I get enough of the big things right though, this will all turn out okay.