A day of seconds. But not second helpings (though we all had those too, of our delicious dinner!).
Early in the day I noticed Penny had some gunk in her eye - been there, done that. All the kids went through conjunctivitis earlier in the season. Fish had a mild case that got better in a day, Mud Pie got better quickly when she realized treatment was eye drops (oh the horror), St. Nick and Dr. D had to go the full round of eye drops, and St. Nick seems to be back to having red eyes.
But Penny ... Maybe just a clogged tear duct. We've had that before too. So I treated with a warm wash cloth and all seemed well. Except as the day wore on, her little eye got worse, until St. Nick picked her up from her late-afternoon nap and had a minor OHMYWORDSOMETHINGISWRONGWITHTHEBABY!! moment. Yup, crusty eye with a huge, oily green tear. More warm wash cloth, but this time when I looked in her beautiful little eyes, one was bright red.
Flashback eight years (almost To The Day): Little Fish, six days old, gunky eyes, red conjunctiva, trip to the med center, eyedrops and oral antibiotics (for a six-day old!), anxiety and stress, etc.
After much discussion ("Her doctor isn't in tomorrow, you don't like some of the other doctors in the practice." "But med center doctors are idiots! Remember Fish?" "We should get her started on something before it spreads to both eyes." etc.) we headed to the med center. Minimum 2-3 hour wait, they informed us, and no they couldn't expedite things for a three-week-old. A call to the other med center proved the same. And the children's hospital ER wouldn't tell us what the wait would be, but did say babies got priority.
So away we went (ok, read this like Eastman's Are You My Mother).
Onto the highway we went. Downtown to the hospital we went.
But did we get to the hospital? No, we did not. We did not get there.
Flashing blue and red lights stopped us.
Enough Eastman. We got pulled over for making a fast lane change (seriously), but a screaming baby is always helpful in these situations, plus being less than a block from the @#$#% hospital by that point, and we were soon on our way, soon at the hospital, soon in a room and, well, a little less than soon on our way home with a diagnosis of conjunctivitis and a little tube of eyedrops (and no oral antibiotics, thank you very much).
The whole adventure was like Fish's illness years ago, but different. One major difference, far less stress and worry. One of the benefits of being on Baby #4. Speaking of, time for little darling's mid-morning snack, not to be confused with elevensies or lunch and certainly not with afternoon tea (babies being a lot like Hobbits).
On to the next step in building the Victoria's Farmhouse: pre-assembly. Like staining shingles and finally, finally getting out the bottle of glue.
This is my lunch, if you can call it that. I used Instagram to make this chicken-flavored McNugget look as unappetizing as possible, which wasn't hard.
At long last the Rug That Would Never Be Finished is all grown up!
And I caught it all on video. Rock on Little Miss Rowdy Britches! And doesn't she rock those sweet wool diaper pants? What am I saying. She rocks *everything*!
Picture it: adorable baby girl in adorable little red-checked shirt and matching shorts. Adorable shirt on adorable baby has four equally adorable strawberry buttons:
Imagine it: put adorably dressed, four-button baby down for her nap.
After nap: adorable baby has only THREE buttons.
I searched the crib. The floor. The changing table...
& 2 A really good highchair and Baby Mum Mums. Wow! How did I survive the first three kids when all we had were Biter Biscuits? Remember those? They dissolved in a messy mush, with choking-sized chunks often breaking off in baby's mouth. Mum Mums are fabulous - they dissolve safely and slowly with no mess (less mess - it's not possible to use "no mess" and "baby" in the same sentence). Plus, they taste pretty good. Even for Mom. Did I just write that?
My feet are blistered and raw. I can't leave the air conditioned indoors. I have an emotional hangover. I'm certain at least one passenger on the 370 from Chicago to GR is talking about the "horrible crying baby" that ruined her peaceful ride. But what a day!
Rowdy and I had our first little adventure together. A lovely, warm 7am Dr. D brought us to the train station...
So little Penny has earned a new nickname: Miss Rowdy. Some variations: Rowdypants, Rowdybooger, QuitBeingSoRowdyandGoBacktoSleep.
Miss Rowdy has been waking two, three, four times a night lately. Not screaming in pain, rather just for kicks. And I do mean that literally. Her...
Or, little people who go shriek in the night. 7pm sweet Penny goes to bed. Cry cry sleep sleep sleep. 10:30 she wakes up. Shriek shriek shriek scream scream. I try to nurse her. Scream scream cry cry shriek shriek. I turn on the light. "Oh!" then, shriek shriek cry scream. I give her a dose of baby ibuprofen. Yum yum. Nursies. Back to bed. Whimper whimper sleep sleep.
3am: cry cry shriek shriek. I get up right away...
Sweetie sharing her first smiles, and a little something else. She's almost two months old here.