Well, with any luck, we may be coming to the end of the little bug that has been plaguing Stinkerbelle for the last couple of days. And I must say, I have learned a lot from my daughter’s first episode of illness.

• The wisdom of friends and fellow parents can come in so handy when your child is sick. I got all sorts of gems of great advice. Grammy told us that a baby’s fever is always worst between 4 and 5 pm… and that is certainly true of Stinkerbelle, so I could prepare for Teh Crabby with a nice cool bottle and make sure I gave her some Tylenol well beforehand. Kelly told me that one natural way to bring down a baby’s fever is to have them lie on your chest, skin to skin — which is also a great way to get them to nap and give them cuddles, while letting you relax too.
• TeleHealth ROCKS. I will file away their advice under “things to do” as well. Especially that half-strength formula in little increments trick.
• Worst time to move up to the next size of diapers? Just before a child is sick, and you’ve got them dressed in only a diaper to help keep them cool. The leakage, it is PROFOUND.
• I know that the in-the-ear thermometers have a margin for error, but DUDE. Better than the alternative, at least logistically.
• I think I am going through some sort of PFSD (that’s post-FEVER stress disorder as opposed to the post-traumatic kind — although my daughter may suffer from that, and you will soon see why…) Now that she seems to be over the worst bits, I am OBSESSED with checking for fever. “Oooh honey, you are a little warm…” I check it. I double check it. I check it again 10 seconds later in case it was wrong. I check it 20 seconds later in case it is coming down. It’s gotten to the point where my child doesn’t even notice me taking her temperature anymore. Or she sees me coming with the thing in hand and gives me that look that says, “You’re NOT. Not AGAIN. Really? Really REALLY?” I have to think it’s not a good sign when an 8-month-old doubts your parenting skills.
• If you have a child, and you know someone who has a child, chances are they are all going to be sick at the same time. But I never thought I’d be on the phone with TeleHealth at the same time as a friend who was also talking to them and dealing with the same problem with her child that I was. (Heather!! Quit hogging all the TeleHealth nurses, man!!   Hope Little Man is feeling better.)
• When you have waited years and years for a child… having one that is clingy and cuddly when she is sick is NOT a bad thing.
• It is comforting to be surrounded by one’s best pals when one is sick. However, sometimes that means carting them all over the house, and that can lead to someone not making it back into bed when bedtime rolls around. But when one’s best pal Teddy is located, the joy of reunion is sweet indeed.

In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams tells us that to travel the universe, one should have a copy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide, which bears the words Don’t Panic on the front in big, friendly letters.

Well, I think someone should invent a Parents’ Guide to the Sick Baby that also bears the words Don’t Panic on the front in big, friendly letters. And every parent should have one.

Because there’s nothing scarier than when your child gets sick, especially the first time.

Stinkerbelle has had a cold before, and has had an ear infection, but has not really been sick. Not until yesterday.

All day yesterday, she was gassy and gurgly and spitting up. A lot. But around mid-afternoon was when she began feeling poorly.

We gave her a bit of Ovol, to help with the gassiness, and she seemed to be okay. But I noticed around 4 or so, she was really tired. Not lethargic or anything, but tired. And she was getting increasingly crabby.

I thought she was going to need her dinner and go to bed early. But around that time, BDH noticed she was very warm. We gave her a diaper change and put her in her jammies, and took her temperature. 102.4.

Eep.

We started calling family for advice. And we got out baby books. We gave her a dose of Tylenol to bring down her fever, and I gave her a bottle so she could get to bed and get some sleep.

BDH was hovering around, worrying, because today he goes to Boston on a business trip. He was not keen on the idea of leaving me to deal with a baby who was feeling poorly, but I told him I would be fine. We thought she was probably starting teething, and that the fever was a result of that. I assured him that a little Tylenol, maybe a little Anbesol on the gums if she needed it, and everything would be fine.

And that is when Stinkerbelle sat up and projectile vomited all over me, the chair, and the floor.

We sat there a little stunned for a second. What just happened?

But we did not panic.

It’s hard not to panic in the face of a projectile vomiting baby — or at least, the first time it happens. Veteran parents are old hat with this sort of thing and so they can cope, get the child cleaned up and to bed with little worry. But with new parents, not so much.

But we kept our heads. Me, I was having a hard time thinking it was anything terribly serious, mostly because I was taking my cues from Stinkerbelle. And she just didn’t seem… sick. I mean, obviously she had a fever and had just yacked an entire bottle all over me. But she didn’t seem to be FEELING too sick. She was still chattering and wasn’t upset. So, neither was I.

BDH, on the other hand, snapped into crisis mode. Right down to business. He grabbed her health card and got right on the phone to Ontario TeleHealth. We spoke with a nurse who gave us some advice on what it could be, what to do to make out daughter comfortable and get her to bed, and told us how to treat her going forward. And she told us that if our daughter vomits again, we are to call them back.

So we followed her advice. And about half an hour later, Stinkerbelle barfed again.

Back on the phone with the nurses at Ontario TeleHealth. They really were awesome. More advice, this time to give our daughter a half-strength bottle in increments of 1-2 teaspoons every 5 minutes until she was full enough or tired enough to sleep, and more plans for going forward. And we wrote down our plan for the next 24 hours.

All the time I was on the phone, BDH was trying to comfort a very tired, very hungry and very upset baby. She was screaming blue murder, and she no doubt felt hot and uncomfortable. But he managed to tough it out and calm her down (hopefully without any permanent hearing loss on his part. That girl can be LOUD.)

We tried putting her to bed several times, but each time she would wake and fuss. Her tummy was empty. So it was time for a little half-strength formula.

It’s not easy to feed a very hungry baby in very small increments. But Stinkerbelle was already starting to feel a little bit better. Enough of the Tylenol must have stayed in her, and her fever was coming down a little bit. And she was smiling and playing with me. So we sat in the dark of her playroom, and I rocked her and we sang songs and played and giggled, and although she could only have a couple of sips of weak formula every few minutes, she seemed to be fine with that. She was happy to be snuggled and playing.

After an hour or so of that, a bit of formula spouted back on her — not much, but enough to signal she had had enough for now. So I put on Van and rocked her to sleep.

She went to bed with no complaint. And so did we.

I fully expected a rough night. But as I checked the clock at 1:30 am, and then at 5:40 am, I realized we had not heard a peep all night. She had slept through the night.

Hopefully, when I go get her after letting her sleep in this morning, she will be feeling better. And hopefully her appetite will have returned and her vomiting will not. And hopefully, BDH can head off on his business trip without worrying about leaving His Girls alone to cope.

So, our first little health crisis has hopefully passed, and we did okay. And, thanks in part to Douglas Adams, we knew enough to not panic.

Oy. We’ve come to that part of the show where That Baby learns about VOLUME.

And it is loud. And what isn’t loud is screechy.

Today we went to the store to pick up a few things for the week. Now that strollering is not really feasible, our daily jaunts to the store have gone back to big weekly trips. And that means it’s a little bit longer in the store, and a little bit less fun because of all the winter clothes. But usually, we do okay.

This morning was the last of a fair bit of snow. We had planned to go this morning, because the forecast called for rain, which meant that the snow that has accumulated over the weekend on my car and my driveway would magically dissolve. But the rain did not come as forecast this morning, and in fact at morning naptime, it was still snowing. So we pushed our trip back to the afternoon.

The rain started around noon, so after lunch we went out and I cleared the car and the driveway and we got ready to go. I figured I could get her in the car seat, get in and out of the grocery store, and get back and unpacked in time for her 3 pm-ish bottle. And off we went.

She was busy in the grocery store. Stinkerbelle has become a bit of a celebrity, it seems. Many people like to peer in at her and smile and coo as we make our way around the store. So, with all the cooing and the talking and the attention, she was getting a little wound up.

One woman we passed several times. She was a store employee, and her job was to chat up customers and get them interested in getting a credit card. I told her no right off the bat, and she was really pleasant, not doing a hard sell or anything. It’s just that we passed her several times as we made our way around the store. And each time, she chatted with my daughter and smiled at her.

By the time we got to the bakery section, Stinkerbelle was getting a bit… restless. And beginning to blow some raspberries, which is a sure sign that she is bored or impatient. So I hurried as quick as I could, zipping quickly through the Miscellaneous Stuff section to see if there was anything gift-y or decoration-y for Christmas, and stopping off to pick up a couple of things in produce I had forgotten.

It was over by the lettuce where That Baby began to get LOUD.

By the time we got to the checkout, she was getting positively shouty.

As I scanned my stuff as quickly as possible, the shouting was becoming screeching. You know how it is, where they find volume, and can’t wait to try it out. And the thing is, you can’t react. If you react, they think, “Hmm. She paid attention to me. Screeching is GOOD.”  And then, you are well and truly screwed.

SCREEEEEEEEECH!

Ignore, scan…. Ignore… scan, scan, scan…

SCREEEEEEEEEECH!

Ignore… scan, scan…

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCHHHHHH!

She was not upset. Not at all. She apparently just felt like expressing herself.

Self-expression is GOOD. We know this. However, it can also be LOUD.

I sighed. I tried shushing her, but she was gaining an audience. People were looking at her. And she loves her some attention.

SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!

Just then, The Credit Card lady appeared. And she said hi again. At which point I apologized for any damage to the eardrums that Shouty McScreecherson might inflict upon her.

She said, “Well then, how about I just stand here and distract her while you finish up?”

I could have hugged her, right then and there. As it turns out, her previous job was in the photographer’s at Sears, so she knows not only of the shrieky babies, but also how to amuse them. So she was totally cool with keeping That Baby occupied and distracted and therefore not shrieking, so that I could get things done and we could make a quiet escape.

I whipped through the rest of the groceries, while The Credit Card lady chatted with the noisy baby. And then, as she said her goodbyes, I thanked her profusely for her help.

And I am sure the rest of the customers at the checkout were silently thanking her as well.

Our daughter pulled her first all-nighter last night. And everyone is the worse for wear for it this morning.

She’s been such a good sleeper from the beginning, and recently she started sleeping through most nights. But every now and again, her schedule just wigs out, and we find her waking at odd hours and struggling to get her to sleep.

Last night she went to sleep with a bit of a battle, but that’s nothing unusual. She has a habit of fighting sleep sometimes, especially if she doesn’t doze off while she’s having her bottle at bedtime. So she fought me a little bit, but once she was out, she was out for the count.

Or so we thought.

Around here, my shift is from 7 am until 11 pm. Anything after 11 is BDH’s to deal with — but he’s up lots throughout the night, so giving her a bottle or changing her diaper is no big deal for him to do, since he’s often up anyway. And although on fussy nights, it’s hard for BDH because he has to work all day the next day, for the most part the arrangement works for us.

So last night, Stinkerbelle started fussing just after midnight, and because BDH has to work, I volunteered to take her and change her and give her a bottle. She’s usually pretty good for me, but last night, we let her fuss in her crib for too long, so by the time we got to her she was WIDE AWAKE. But I thought I should take care of it so BDH would be rested for work.

I gave her her bottle. I rocked her. She fell asleep. I took her to her bed and laid her down, whereupon her eyes would snap open and the air raid siren cry would start. We did this several times. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I tried everything. I rocked her. I swaddled her. I danced her around. NOTHING was working.

Finally, at around 2:30 am and completely exhausted, I took her upstairs in the dark, turned on my computer, and played her music for her. I rocked her a good long time. And I cried from sheer exhaustion. She finally fell asleep soundly enough that I could put her in bed by just about 3 am.

And I crashed into bed, spent.

At 3:30, she began the whole process again with BDH. I slept. And in case she was teething or gassy and pain was keeping her up, he gave her a little Tylenol. He finally got her to bed at around 5.

And then she was up again, ready for her day, at 5:30.

I was beat. I took her upstairs in the dark, put her on a blanket on the floor in front of a video, and crashed on the sofa.

How a little girl can go all day on next to no sleep, I will never understand. But she kept going, full bore, until around 10:30 when she finally consented to a mere 1/2 hour nap.

Needless to say, it is not a happy place to be today here in the House of Peevish. There’s lots of eye rubbing and upset and dark circles under eyes. The crabby is so thick you can cut it with a knife. And every time, I look at my daughter and say, “Well, you stayed up all night. What did you THINK was going to happen?”

She never really answers me. She mostly puts me on ignore, or bellows her peevishness at me. So. Looks like rational discussion is out, then.

Oh well. I knew it was going to happen, sometime. All kids do it. And hey, you could choose to look at it like maybe it’s good training for when she is at university.

But next time, if she could wait to do it until we are stinking rich and fully staffed up with a nanny whose job it is to get up with her at all hours… that’d be great.

One of the things that I am finding challenging about parenthood is managing some of the more mundane tasks that require me to be out and about with my daughter.

It’s been a little intimidating at times, I have to admit, to face the prospect of bundling her up, getting her into her carseat, making sure she has the appropriate things packed in her diaper bag, blahblahblah… It’s sometimes just easier to stay in. Well, that’s not entirely true — if it is something I can do by walking, stroller door-to-door and back again, then it is easy. It’s trips out in the car that are more of a challenge.

I think it’s because you have to prepare for a couple of scenarios. Is she warm enough/dry/fed/has toys to entertain her, so she doesn’t fuss in the car? Is she warm enough to be outside when we are NOT in the car? How do I get the car loaded up/cleaned off/warmed up AND keep my eye on her? Do we have layers on that can come off if we are indoors for a long time? And then there’s the issue of where we’ll be and for how long — because then we have to think about whether I can carry her, or her in the bucket, or if a stroller is required. AND if the place is even stroller-friendly. (Thankfully we haven’t gone there yet, because my car trunk is too full of crap to fit the stroller into. A project for another day.)

It’s all such a quantum leap from life as a childless person, where you could just get up and go.

But I am adjusting. I have made some mistakes, like going to the doctor — literally, about a mile down the road — without a diaper bag, thinking it was close enough it wouldn’t be necessary… only to have Stinkerbelle drop a massive load just minutes before her appointment. Or driving home from the grocery store, on one of our first trips together, only to find that her car seat was not completely latched in place (a 90-second drive through our subdivision, but STILL). And invariably, I get her dressed up nicely to go out, and she barfs on herself about 30 seconds before we are ready to go. But I am learning.

I mentioned on Monday that I had to get my car an emissions test, and get new stickers for my plates, and get groceries… yeah. That didn’t happen on Monday, when the weather was snowy. (There’s that procrastination thing — it’s sometimes easier.)

So today, I decided it was time to get it done.

It was sunny and bitterly cold, so I had to think about clothes and blankets and layers, not just for the outdoors and for the car, but for the up-to-an-hour it might take at the dealership to get the car tested. So I decided to forego the quilted clothes in favour of jeans and a t-shirt and a jacket — AND A BIB — and strapped her into her carseat with a couple of snuggly blankets on top. I got the car warmed up and packed her in, and off we went.

She was due for a nap, so I thought we could time things so that she’d sleep through the ride there and through the appointment. And she did doze off, right on schedule, as we drove there. But, once we arrived at the dealership, as soon as a gust of wind hit her in the face, she was up and awake. After only about a 5 minute nap. SPLENDID. And once I walked into the waiting area to find it packed with customers, I began to dread the wait. A tired, hot baby in a car seat with nothing to do in a room full of people can be a recipe for disaster.

But not this kid.

She was as happy as can be. She blew raspberries, and charmed other customers, and bellowed out DA DA DAs, and didn’t fuss one tiny bit. She played with her toys and chattered at anyone who would pay attention. She was happy to be out in a new place, with new faces to see, and didn’t seem to mind sitting in her car seat at all. The appointment passed quickly and painlessly.

Off in the car again, to drive clear across town and back to the licensing office. I thought for sure she’d be either fussing or sleeping, but nope — she just carried on playing and talking and was happy for the whole ride. And that appointment was a breeze too.

Finally, we headed to the grocery store. By this time, she had completely missed her nap, and lunch was inching closer. She was still fairly content, but her voice was getting that particular edge and volume to it that told me that soon, her patience was going to run out and she was going to need some lunch and a snooze. So, with as much speed as I could muster and babbling like a loon into my cart (where she sat in her bucket) I rushed Stinkerbelle around the store.

In the baby aisle, she was okay. By the bakery section, she was getting squirmy and shouty. And then, to the checkout.

Mabel.

Now, our grocery store has self-checkout, and it is often staffed by a woman named Mabel. Mabel is quite possibly the nicest grocery store employee on the planet. Possibly the solar system. She is always, always pleasant. And she LOVES her some Stinkerbelle.

Thank doG for Mabel today, because Her Babyness was just approaching critical mass when who should peer over the side of the cart but one of her peeps. And Stinkerbelle LOVES the adoration of the masses, so when she saw Mabel’s face, she broke into a huge grin and began squirming with happiness and chattering up a storm.

One must ALWAYS put on a good face for one’s adoring public, after all.

And thank goodness, too, because I got checked out and packed up without a meltdown. And her goodwill lasted just long enough to get everything into the car, driven home and unloaded.

And then she melted down. In the privacy of her playroom. Which was easily remedied with a nice lunch and a bottle.

So, a morning of tedious errands done. Me and the girl, out in the world, getting stuff done. I am sure it gets easier as things become more routine, but I admit I was glad to be home again. Mission accomplished.

(Although, I am in no way ready to solo at Christmas shopping yet. Thank doG for the internet.)

A snippet of my life, right now:

• My child has started singing and dancing. Now, mind you, the dancing consists of bouncing up and down. And the singing is a very loud and tuneless “AAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaahhh”, but still, it’s heartfelt. But all it takes is for me to start clapping and lalala-ing like some Sousa march, and she’s off to the races, man.
• I am hoping that one day, Baby Einstein will do a Doctor Who-themed video.
• If the pants aren’t stretchy or flannel or fleecy and have an elastic or drawstring waist, they’re not getting anywhere near me.
• My house is decorated in a combination of Early Canadian Plastic Toy and Early Modern Quilted Blankie, with a smattering of Recyclable Pop Can thrown in to liven things up.
• As Kelly can witness, there are times when I look at a barf stain on my shirt and actually SAY, OUT LOUD, “Hmmm. I guess I’m going to have to change my shirt.” Like there’s a CHOICE.
• Supper only SEEMS like it’s optional.
• If Van Morrison ever records “Twinkle Twinkle” or “Baa Baa Black Sheep”, I am TOTALLY buying it.
• If it were not for garbage day (Wednesday) I would have no clue what day it was. And if it were not for my cat (who yells to be fed at regular intervals) I would lose track of time.
• One of these days, I’m going to have to tackle Mount Laundry. But it’s going to be a helluva lot sooner than I face the Valley of the Dirty Toilet or drive in the Vacuum Rally, I can tell you.
• I swear to you, there’s a drunken circus midget living in my house who communicates using a strange amalgam of Da-Da-Das, some Zulu click language, raspberries, and shrieking.

Admit it. You TOTALLY want to be me, don’t you.