Sep
24
So, we’re still sick. Sick is no fun, but happily the Cipro is doing its job. (Travelling to Ethiopia? Get a prescription and get some. Seriously. GET SOME. Having your intestines turn to liquid is NO FUN.) And to add insult to injury, the cold that BDH and Stinkerbelle have shared for the past week is now currently taking up residence in my lungs. NIIIIIICE. But at least I can remain vertical now for long-ish periods of time without getting faint.
But we got a health card for The Girl, which means that we can take her to the doctor whenever it is required. And I have to tell you, arriving home on a Friday and not having a health card until Monday afternoon makes for a bit of a stressful weekend. So the first thing we did Tuesday morning was take her in to the doctor, who, I am happy to report, gave her a clean bill of health (except for an ear infection) and said “that is ONE HAPPY KID”. She’s in the 10th percentile of weight and the 50th for height — but some of that weight was poo, since she dumped a giant load just as we got into the exam room. Not surprisingly. So we head back next week for another checkup.
But still, amid the sick and the tired, we have our moments.
- We may be doing laundry until our next adoption, at which point the suitcases are already right by the washer and dryer, so packing should be a snap.
- I feel my child may have some Italian in her. She does this hand motion repeatedly, that looks kind of like an Italian man kissing his fingers and going “MWAH!” when talking about food. To which we say, “What? Do you want some food? What? Is that the signal for ‘put food in HERE’? What?” So, possibly… we’re failing at the whole feeding thing.
- It’s funny how quickly people can change from cool professional types to unshowered, poo-covered, booger-chasing loons.
- Facecloths are a form of torture. I had no idea.
- I find Eddie Izzard is often with us in spirit in midnight baby-attending manouevres. Suddenly a crying baby in the middle of the night is a whole lot more tolerable — nay, FUNNIER — when you point her at your spouse and say “I’m covered in BEEEEEES! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Or changing a really stinky diaper?”This is a POO SHOP! Everything here is made of POO!” Or, when you’re really tired, you can combine the two: “I’m covered in POOOOOOOO! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!” Which cracks us UP. We’ve also taken to calling her favourite toy “Mr. Toy, the toy for small yapper-type babies.” I do not know whether Eddie would be pleased or horrified. But it sure makes us laugh like loons at 3:30 in the morning, I tell you truly.
- Why do they make the medicine BRIGHT RED? Why? When they KNOW that kids are just going to DROOL IT BACK OUT? Are they in league with the laundry soap people or something?
- You can be as sick as you want, but nothing makes you feel better than looking over and seeing a happy, beautiful baby grinning up at you and cooing.
So, yes. This has been our last few days.
But you will be happy to know I am working on lists. Lists and lists of lists! I am making lists of things we took and used and did not use and all that sort of thing from our trip. And I will post them.
But not now. Right now, there’s a toxic waste dump forming in the vicinty of my child’s posterior. And so, before the house begins to resemble a Poo Shop…
