Que est ce-que ce est NoseFrida?
All of the males in the house have had terrible colds. This morning, when I lifted the baby out of his crib, the poor thing looked to be gaming for a part in an Irish novel. You know, the genre featuring snot-nosed one-year olds who never get their faces wiped? But those babies also never get enough to eat, and he is too roly-poly for the part, so the acting career is on hold.
If you are a baby, you can probably barely handle clapping. Consequently, your chances of being able to clear your own nasal passages are nil. As a first line of defense against congestion, parents buy bulbs aspirators. Oh, I could not wait til I had one of those on hand. So eager was I, I got one even before I got my actual baby. (For the uninitiated, bulb aspirators are pointy things—usually blue—that do not work. At all. Do not bother.)
If a baby is really stuffy, you can steam up the bathroom before every nursing session, meal, and nap, and sit with the child in the murk until their head clears long enough to be able to eat or sleep. This is important knowledge in case you get desperate, but it’s just about as practical as not using wipes in favor of washing the kids nethers in the tub every time they need, uh, a wipe.
Pediatricians advise parents that they can use their mouths to suck snot out of a baby’s nose. I would suck anything at all out of my child if his well-being hinged on it. But do I want to suck a mouthful of germ-laden mucous out of his nose? I believe that I would prefer to suck gasoline out of my Camry. And drink it on ice.
Enter the NoseFrida. Actually, the true title of this modern parenting tool is “NoseFrida the Snotsucker.” In a situation like this, subtlety isn’t what sells. It’s a combo of kookiness and effectiveness, and possibly — possibly — a delight in the squeam factor. Because you’re not actually sucking snot into your mouth, you are sort of miming it. You can *see* the snot. You can *hear* the snot. But due to a very tiny foam filter, you cannot taste the snot.
You take a squishy disposable foam round out and jam it into a slot, and then assemble the NF. The part you put into your mouth is red and sort of like a kazoo mouthpiece. The business end, that goes near BUT NOT IN the baby’s nostril, is blueish and pointy. (Never put something directly in someone’s nostril.) Anyhow, suck, and the pointy part might slurp goo out of the nose. Using a squirt of saline first might help, or you might just suck saline out of your little love’s nose. Plus, by the time you put saline into his or her nose, he or she clue in to the fact that have no qualms about doing terrible things. Some drama might have already ensued before you can even start with the NoseFrida.
While NoseFrida’ing a child, the child will act as if you are using a torture device. Is confusion a form of torture?
It’s safest to have at least two parents helping with this project: one to hold the child down, and the other to siphon out the fluid. Dads seem to come in especially handy when it comes to the siphoning part of the NoseFrida. It’s reported that they are way more willing to suck snot of out someone’s head than moms are, even if as a group, they seem more fastidious and dainty in re: bodily fluids.
I’ve always thought those baby aspirators were a good thing, better to have than not (especially when you decide you need one in the middle of the night, and start searching all of the pharmacies in Riverdale). I was always worried about how one would clean it out after using it, but since you say they don’t really work, I’m glad I don’t have to worry any longer!
“Pediatricians advise parents that they can use their mouths to suck snot out of a baby’s nose.” Seriously? Seriously? I am beside myself.
yes! i have a book that recommends it, too! why don’t you try it on harry the cute?
Yeck. My friend has a 13 year old son who still cannot properly blow his nose. Maybe I can get him a NoseFrida for teens?
I’m with Amy’s comment.
That is the sentence of the day for sure.