. . . some comfort

Sometimes, all you need to feel a little better is your 'Dadoo', your polka-dot coat, some stickers and an iPod. Sometimes, you need a flower.

. . . still more germs (*now in even more places*)

The update at baby-so-sick's afternoon doctor's appointment is that the gunk has now moved into her little ears. Ears which only 8 days ago were symptom free. Ears that have had multiple problems in the past. Teeny, tiny, soft little ears that are now gunky, icky, 'bulging' as her pediatrician termed it, with goo.

The poor girl was such a sweetie at the doctor's, and even while she and mama waited at her favorite store for her new prescriptions. She was a trooper after dinner when her Dadoo gave her the one-two punch of medicine on top of the earlier Tylenol. She even helped pick up her new box of Crayons after it mysteriously emptied itself across the living room floor.

And talk about good, she went to bed with only a few tears, once again missing out on her normal, favorite bedtime milk (no dairy with the violent poo). Granted, she did need both her 'Animal Sounds' book and her 'Hippo' book to do it, but still. All of this from a itsy little thing filled to the brim with, well, that green stuff.

Mama (& Dadoo, too) is so proud of her baby-sweetest. But mostly, Mama just feels so bad that she keeps getting worse. She seems so very small to be so sick for so long. Here's hoping that these new medicines can do the trick, and quickly.

. . . more germs

The house is a germy mess. The child is an even germier germ-generator (say that ten times fast) who makes germs faster than this mama can clean them up. The mama is quickly becoming germier herself, what with an increasingly sore throat, stuffy head and achy ears. The Dadoo is looking a little bit tired. Not grey yet, thank goodness, but certainly paler than days past.

The sick-in continues here at Chez-icky-yuck as we-the-family mark the thirteenth (count 'em, that's a one-three) day of the seige. Our defenses are battered, our noses are sore, our eyes are puffy. And this morning, the girl's eyes were sealed shut with more of the green gunk. It. is. so. fun. here.

Last night, however, was even better. Last night, we-the-parents had the joy of experiencing the return (ladies and gentlemen - hold on to your hats), of the violent poo. And by return, mama means the absolute explosion. Neither Dadoo nor mama could've foreseen such an incredible experience in our future. We naively thought that since our sweet girl is so much older now, those poos were a thing of the past. We, as last night proved, were very much mistaken.

The hero of this story is Dadoo, who thankfully noticed a not-so-subtle-hint of fragrance coming from the nursery nearly an hour and a half after the girl was in bed. We-the-parents thought we'd prepared for the worst, and yet, once again, were amazed to find ourselves woefully lacking in imagination. Suffice it to say that a complete bed and pillow change, a bath for baby and mama and new jammies were in order. Along with some bleach and a lot of Desitin.

The girl was unbelievably happy at being awakened from her deep slumber, and surprisingly not one bit upset that she was covered in ick and being quickly stripped of her warm (stinky) sleeper. She laughed her way through a bath, snuggled with Dadoo for a few minutes and cried for only half a minute when she was placed back into her crib. All in all, a fairly decent ending to a truly not-so-pleasant beginning.

Still, hope has not vanished here in the middle of the ickiness, and Mama believes that the days of wellness are coming, if not near. The sun is shining after all, and surely that's a sign.

. . . the icky yucks

Days and nights have been mixed a bit here in the world of toxic green, leaving we-the-parents tired and our poor toddler weary as well. The girl's been sick for over a week now with what began as a teeny tiny cough, moved into a stout cold and has recently emerged in a new form that has invaded her eyes.

Baby-starving refuses food (even her favorites like pizza and cheese) and despairs of nearly all liquids, though Mama is pleased to report that the thirsty babe drank 5 oz of Vitamin water before her nap began this afternoon.

We have not seen the likes of this much sheet-washing or this little solid sleep since her newborn days, and suffice it to say, both Mama and Daddy are feeling a bit sluggish themselves. The saddest part of it all, however, is watching the girl's discomfort. Her tired, red, runny eyes, her matted lashes, her chapped cheeks (from the endless rivers pouring from her nose), her hot face and sad little frown - all of these combine to break our heart.

She could be getting better, she could be getting worse. It's hard to tell which is happening. We only know that our Puffs Plus usage has skyrocketed over the last week and shows no signs of slowing. At least we're supporting a small part of the economy.

. . . a prayer

For Noah and Julie.

For their families.

For the gift of the life of Magdalena Grace.

. . . the ninth day of Christmas

That's ladies dancing, for those of you racking your brains for the ninth verse of one of the best ever Christmas songs.

And ladies dancing it is these days as our baby-adorable becomes more adept at her pliés and pirouettes. The last weeks have been a blur of turkey and music and lights and family, all infused with the laughter of our twirling toddler who has been more than pleased to execute her ballet positions for anyone willing to watch. She had plenty an audience with visits from both sets of grandparents, three of her Aunties and her Uncle Tony who, bless his heart, willingly worked the same puzzle 32 times in a row - just to keep a smile on the face of his niece.

Our second Christmas with baby-sweetheart was filled with wonder for all of us. We-the-family spent nearly every night driving around to see the 'wi-iiights' and the angels ('bye-bye an-johs' was a sweet and sad refrain as we passed any such display on the road). The girl attended her first Christmas party, and had a chance to play 'Secret Santa' for her friend. There were cookies and treats and presents and 'toh-eese' and tickles and hugs and singing and so much laughter that Mama doesn't know enough words to describe it all - the sheer joy of celebrating with a girl who just sees it and experiences everything with a sense of amazement and happiness.

The Brilliant Babydaddy (dubbed Dadoo by the girl) chose our tree-theme this year, and Mama declares it to be the best idea ever. Since the baby-brilliant loves looking for letters everywhere she goes, Dadoo decided we should deck-the-tree with the ABCs. A little planning, two cans of spray paint, three rolls of ribbon and 26 staples later, our alphabet ornaments were born. We-the-parents decorated the tree during an afternoon naptime, and when the sweetest girl woke from her nap, she ran to the tree with her bear, smiling and calling out each letter to us - 'A, Dadoo! A! Y, Mama! Y! Y! Y! - over and over and over. She still does it, and every morning before breakfast, her first words are, 'Tree dark, Dadoo. An-johs dark. Lights!'

Here she is, fresh from that day's nap, checking out her tree. And as we move closer to Twelfth Night, we-the-family hope your holidays and new year are merry, merry, merry.