This baby, however, managed to go full-on Man Cold on me.
Here's how my baby's cold is like a man cold:
A Man Colder denies he has a cold until he has spewed his germs everywhere. "It's just allergies." "Is something wrong with the thermostat?" "I'm really tired." A Man Colder is always the last to know he has a cold, yet the cold surprises no one but himself. Naturally, he has managed to touch all of the remotes in the house during the denial stage. Baby Andrew kept up with a rousing weekend of accompanying his sis to the orthodontist, going to church, and attending a party and staying out past bedtime. But the purple tinge around his eyes, the crying jags, and his inability to take a nap longer than 1/2 an hour suspiciously pointed to a cold, which eventually kicked in with dramatic fashion.
A Man Colder, once his cold is identified, cannot maintain a schedule and routine. While a woman will likely keep working, mothering, or campaigning for president while ill, a man cold makes the sufferer's life grind to a screeching halt, with a big, "I'm so sick!" preferably uttered amid coughs and sniffles, so that it sounds more like, "I'm tho thick!"A large pile of wadded tissues on the floor adds dramatic effect. For baby Andrew, who has gifted us with 8 and even 10 hour stretches of sleep for months, it meant jettisoning his routine, waking within 45 minutes of being put down for the night, and staying up, with much weeping and wailing, until dawn crested our hill.
A Man Colder must drag others into his suffering. Not able to quietly suffer, or, God forbid, suck it up, he needs to know that YOU KNOW just how ill he is. If he doesn't think there is enough attention coming his way, he might embark on a coughing fit, accidentally drop his mug of tea to the floor with a clatter because his feeble wrist can no longer hold it, or weakly summon you from another part of the house to bring him a small, ripe clementine, peeled, if you wouldn't mind. Under no circumstances should you give a Man Colder a bell to ring, even if it seems like it could make this process more efficient. You may also want to turn your text notifications way, way down. Andrew was not content to drag just his mother, his main squeeze, into his misery. He had to make sure his dad, both dogs, and the stressed out teenager in the next room were sufficiently aware of his inability to sleep. Only when the entire household was buzzing around him trying to figure out how to use a gadget called a Nose Frida, was he mildly satisfied.
A Man Colder's suffering waxes and wanes. Certain times of day are the worst for Mr. Man Cold, such as when it comes to working, attending Back to School Nights, or shuttling kids around, but he might be able to rally just a tad when watching sports on TV or if an intriguing opportunity arises, such as a corn hole game in the cul de sac. Andrew was completely miserable. Hour after hour passed with screaming and wailing, but when I took him to the basement to allow other family members a chance to get some sleep, he was wide awake and happy as a clam. All of the enticements of our rarely-visited basement, like a couch and a clunky old TV, captivated him. He didn't care that it was now 3 am; he found his smile again, and it was party-time! Oooh! Is that a Shop Vac?
During the night, I had a running tape going in my head: "I can't do this! I'll never sleep again! I'm too old for this crap! What if his routine is ruined???" The morning sun, or at least the morning drizzle, made me realized I may have catastrophized a bit, kind of like a Man Colder.
The baby and I are staying home today, watching cartoons, cuddling, and, I hope, napping!