Catching Microscopic Live Grenades

I have been a germaphobe all my life.

There's nothing I hate more than being/getting sick.

Yes, I'm that crazy lady that touches door handles only with my sweater pulled over my hands.  And I punch elevator buttons with the tip of my pinky.  And I wince when I have to use 'public' pens, like at the doctor's office, and I will hold the pen awkwardly at the highest possible point because that's where most people won't touch it.

But now, because I have a toddler that goes to daycare (read: cesspool of human decay and all unholy things), I run toward germs (i.e., my toddler) like someone catching a live grenade.

As soon as Judah comes home, I rush over to him and try to get him to kiss me full on the lips.  Mmmmm, love the taste of germy germs.  Sorry, Judah, it's not cuz mommy loves you so much as it's mommy trying ON PURPOSE to catch your germs.

Why?

Because I'm desperately trying to protect Noah from getting sick.  Hopefully my body will make the requisite antibodies and Noah will be the beneficiary of them through my breast milk--mother nature's ingenious way of protecting helpless little infants.

When Noah was just 6 weeks old he caught a bug from Judah and life was miserable for about 2 weeks.  Noah couldn't breathe (and therefore could barely nurse) and yet needed to nurse more frequently for comfort and fluids.  Argh.

All this to say, yet another reason why motherhood sucks.  I will be running to catch every god-forsaken disease my toddler brings home for at least another few months.  And, BONUS, I can't take any comforting medication to ease my horrible symptoms for fear of it passing through my breast milk.

Oy vey.