The Sinus Temper Tantrum: A sad, lonely part of your body that is ignored more than the laundry piles hiding around the house – until it throws a tantrum rivaling the performances of your toddlers at their absolute worst.
I slowly emerged unwillingly from the fog of sleep, my eyelids partly sealed with sleepy glue. With a groan I reached for my iPod to see what ungodly hour it was. I pried my eyes open.
6:30 AM. Hell.
My bladder demanded I exit the warm cocoon of the bed and I carefully contracted my muscles, still sore from the sadistic lunges from my strength class – three days ago.
I rolled out of bed as my quads protested for daring to be used. I rose to my feet and pain slammed into me from an unexpected location: my sinuses.
My fingers immediately sought them out, massaging them as they throbbed like the thunder of a wild stampede of shrunken toddlers dancing in weighted tap shoes on a metal floor – inexplicably located just behind the bridge of my nose.
I saw spots as I blindly fumbled to the toilet, stubbing my toe on my husband’s sneaker left haphazardly in my path.
It momentarily distracted me from my pounding skull as I relieved myself.
I stood again, avoiding the troublesome shoe as I quickly turned on the sink faucets, shivering as the icy cold water numbed my fingers.
It was habit. Ingrained. Done without thinking.
Because thought was impossible.
The tap dancing toddlers transformed into the Stomp! cast as they bludgeoned my brain with brooms, trashcans, and the kitchen sink. Using the tiny glow of my alarm clock, I patted my nightstand desperately, seeking the bottle of ibuprofen that resided there.
It was missing.
I cursed silently as I crawled back into bed, knowing if I dared search for the bottle, my body would likely insist on staying awake.
I rolled onto my right side, facing the opposite direction I’d awoken in. I closed my eyes, praying sleep would overtake me quickly.
Instead, the congestion in my nose moved like lava across flat land. It blocked the nasal passages and prevented fresh air from arriving as the Stomp! cast took it up a notch.
Thirty minutes passed as I fought to return to the blissful oblivion of sleep.
Defeated, I left the bed – again – the sore leg muscles now barely noticeable over the cacophony in my head. I wanted nothing more than to find a medication to rid myself of the Sinus Tantrum and bury myself in bed.
My job of a stay at home mother doesn’t have that luxury.
I hobbled downstairs to began my day: filled with laughter, whining, and a screaming banshee – all which assaulted my sinuses with the Invisible Ice Pick of Doom.
It could be allergies. I’ve never been tested, but Cedar Fever is almost impossible to avoid this time of year.
It could be The Common Cold.
Or it could just be fed up with being ignored unless it brings The Pain.
No matter the reason, my sinuses are pissed off.
Did they have to pick a tantrum now, when my Lil Diva is teething?
Seriously… what the frak?