Both of my daughters have constant runny noses. I can't seem to curb Frankie's habit of wiping it on her sleeve and, of course, Molly just lets it flow freely and occasionally smears it on my shoulders when I am carrying her. Right now we are the kind of family I used to look at in pediatric practice and think, "Why don't they wipe their noses?". BECAUSE IT IS LIKE SISYPHUS ROLLING HIS BOULDER UP THE HILL, THAT'S WHY. As fast as I do it, the snot comes back again. I have been using "hanitizer," as Frankie calls it (a handy little amalgamation of hands and santizer that I find quite efficient), and frantically swabbing my nostrils with zinc gel, but I know it is just a matter of time before the ax falls. Last time, as you may recall, dear reader, my cold progressed to bronchitis and then to violent rib cracking. And mine still hurt.
Despite Frankie's freely flowing snot-fest, I did allow her to go to BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) this morning. Yes, I joined the ranks of those mothers toward whom I have harbored great hostility lo these three years of Frankie's life. The mothers who bring their hacking, juicy, puking children to the church nursery, playdates, etc. Does it help that I am a trained medical professional who knows she is past the point of contagion? I doubt it.
It is hard to do my job of observing the children's program at BSF as I'm supposed to without paying undue attention to how my child is behaving. I want her to be the model pupil, my well-trained show pony, sitting quietly, listening intently, speaking in long articulate sentences. It is hard to watch her turning circles during hymn time and falling on the rug. It is hard not to hiss at her to answer the questions about the Bible Story. Because I know she knows the answers. I totally prepped her ahead of time. It is so easy to lose sight of what I really want for her. It is so easy to fall prey to the desire to seek the praise of men and not the praise of God. But couldn't she learn AND look cute and obedient doing it?
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