The Thing With Feathers

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Bad Breath

My daughters have sinus infections. They have greenish slugs of mucus migrating out of their noses at all times. Kleenex and Sudafed are no match. Everything sticks to this stuff: their hair, my hair, dog hair, Cheerios. This means two things. They are feverish and irritable and they cry a lot. Especially at night. And they smell bad. They breath through their mouths at night adding sulfurous oral bacteria to the foetid goo going down the backs of their throats.

I knew I was their "REAL MOTHER" as the old ladies at Food King say (as opposed to their synthetic mother I suppose) when the eminating smell seemed interesting, an empirical invitation, instead of disgusting. Did the foulness result from last night's garlicky pasta carbonara. Or is there an infection? I move closer for another whiff. Hmm. Not just morning breath. Call the Dr.

My daughters and I didn't share a placenta. That level of organic goo we missed. But we are bonded at some organic level. Breathing beside them I wait to know them inside and out.

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