Sick. Ick.

The rhinovirus has descended upon the Sanger household. Thanks daycare! Up until now we have been very, very lucky, and Bry has escaped all of the 8-12 colds he was supposed to get during his first year of life. Now there are sniffles (and no one likes a Mr. Sniffles) and waking up in the middle of the night. For super bonus fun, there's also drool by the gallon, courtesy of Bry's first two teeth, which are making their presence known, even though they haven't peaked through yet. The sheer volume of bodily fluids in the forms of snot and drool escaping this kid is impressive. I'm just hoping he doesn't have my sore throat, because it feels like someone took a cheese grater to it, followed by a generous sprinkling of cayenne.

The crowning moment thus far in the story Bryson Gets a Cold happened first thing this morning when I was changing Bry's diaper. I noticed that his pajamas seemed to have a stain on the front and at first I just chalked it up to too much drool. Until I noticed another stain on the leg of his pajamas. Um, and some chunks of some unidentified substance in his hair. I took a wary glance towards his crib, where I beheld a truly spectacular mess. Bry had thrown up ALL OVER his crib at some point during the night. (Don't ask me how I didn't see it the first time I took him out of his crib.) Either he went right back to sleep or I missed it when I had retrieved him at about 4 am to try to groggily nurse him back to sleep. Of course it's a little scary that Bry threw up without our knowing about it, especially if it happened while he was sleeping or groggy. But he seems no worse for the wear. He's managing to be his charming self in spite of the snot spigot that is located right where his nose used to be. He squirms and fusses every time I come at him with a kleenex. But he's more than willing to rub his mucousy nose all over my pants leg. Motherhood has never been more glamorous.