My mom told me I should update my blog. I should also vacuum the house, take a shower and do some laundry, but hey, mom said.

So…an update? Well, things around here have been a bit messy.

It started in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I was feeding O as usual, but when I sat him up to burp, he projectile vomited across my bed all Exorcist-like. Projectile. Across the bed. It was dark, and yet I still saw the ocean of breast milk shoot across my sheets. We all got up and as I put new sheets on the bed, O hung out in dad’s arms looking all happy and content.

And very awake for 4 a.m.

Did you know Friends airs at 4:30 in the morning? I didn’t either. Now we know.

So that was that. And all was good until Tuesday night, when I felt the familiar pain of a clogged milk duct — my third — coming on. Basically, the duct becomes clogged by dry milk somewhere in the breast, and it takes lots and lots of warm compressing, massage and milk expression to make it go away. And in the meantime, the duct becomes hard and painful, causing the rest of the breast to become inflamed, tender and engorged.

Oh, what fun it is!

Like I said, this was the third time I had one in as many weeks, so I’m well versed in getting rid of them. But it takes HOURS to get rid of them. In my experience, after all the work I do, it’s usually O who finally unclogs it with his little barracuda suck. And when that happens, milk shoots out like a fountain, sometimes onto him. Or forming a puddle on my sheets.

I used to wash my sheets once a week or so. I’m lucky if I get two days out of a clean set now!

Although, if we’re being honest, if there’s some sort of puddle in the very early morning hours, I’m more than likely to just throw a burp cloth over it and deal with it in the morning. You’d be surprised how low your standards can go after having a baby.

I finally contacted a lactation consultant about this annoying problem and she gave me some tips on how to avoid future clogged ducts. She also said that I most likely have a over-supply of milk (16-pound baby, anyone?), which is a blessing that I can provide for him, but also a curse for my poor backed up boob.

Which brings us to yesterday. Yesterday, O contracted his first cold, and there is nothing more heartbreaking than watching your baby struggle to breathe through his tiny, stuffed up nose. Babies this young don’t know how to mouth-breathe yet, so each breath is harder than the next. There’s not much we can do — cuddles, saline drops in the nose…and the dreaded bulb snot sucker.

He HATES the snot sucker. So much, that he’s actually started punching it when I come near him. Some mothers have recommended a new kind of aspirator to me called the Nosefrida, which apparently works wonders. Only, you have to suck the snot out through a tube WITH YOUR MOUTH. The reviews I’ve read swear no snot actually comes near your mouth, but I can imagine the process is still pretty gross. However, if he’s still this stuffy tomorrow, I’m probably going to buy one.

And if I do, you KNOW I’ll tell you about it.

All that snot is also running down his little throat, so he’s constantly spitting up. There’s not a clean shoulder to be found in this house and all my shirts smell fabulous. I see blogs of trendy little moms all decked out in fancy outfits posing with their infants and I can’t help but wonder, is there some new breed of child that are born to only posh women? Babies who wouldn’t dare to spit up on Mommy’s designer duds? Because I wasn’t aware I could get on the waiting list for one of those.

Last night, my kid spit up into my underwear.

No, I don’t know how he did it, but I had to change my undies in the middle of the night, because that was one thing I wasn’t going to cover with a burp cloth.