There are worse things in this life than a really bad diaper rash, but to a baby that's about as bad as it gets. And she'll let you know aaaall about it. And then when you're letting her air out on the living room floor for the day, she will vehemently express her displeasure in ways that make you very glad you put that blanket down underneath her.
That's all I'll say about that.
I felt so bad for her the last three days. It seems she got a little dehydrated Monday. I have no idea how. It wasn't hot, and she never goes hungry or thirsty. Maybe a little bug?
Anyway, that started a really fun chain of events for us both. The last two days I've been feeding her every two hours and have done away with solid foods for now. I think she's back to normal, if still a little rashy. She is now terrified of diaper changes.
This evening when I fed her at 7, she fell fast asleep in my arms for the first time in weeks. I spent fifteen minutes in frozen silence, staring at her, not wanting to wake her up. She jolted awake on her own, though. She's hilarious when she does this. She looks around the room in terror, the way you might if you woke up one night on the floor of a pub full of hungry redneck vampires.
CFF brought by more Buffy and Angel when she came the other day. I'm already on season six of Buffy. It's a sickness, I tell you.
The thing is, TV is really nice with a baby, especially when the baby is not feeling well, and you can turn on the subtitles. My brain may be rotting, but that's okay; once it rots enough, I'll barely even feel it anymore.
Since the weather's gotten warmer, the spiders have been gallivanting about this place like they own it. I got news for them. People live here now. People with fly swatters and piercing wails. And flesh-eating cleaning chemicals. Did I mention piercing wails? That's the one James is most fond of.
So, spiders everywhere. And now I'm seeing them even when they're not there. I hope it's not the beginning of a rapidly-spiraling descent into madness culminating in my attempted cleansing of the baby by flinging her on the lawn and hosing her down with the garden hose. I'm not even sure we own a garden hose, and if we do, it's probably been sitting in our shed (only slightly less terrifying than the Pit of Despair) for the last two years, collecting hairy wolf spiders that make Rubeus Hagrid look like a bald little baby.
Also, centipedes. I've seen two now. One was in my laundry. I almost burned the lot of it, right there on the bathroom floor.
The Child has been thisclose to crawling for about a month. She gets up on all fours and rocks. She even does this funky zombie-crawl: on all fours, she plants both hands way out in front of her and drags her lower body forward until she has too much weight out front, then flops on her face, then gets on all fours again and repeats the process (all with a pacifier in hand or mouth, which she never sucks on anymore but chews like it's a big old ball of tobacco).
She does a lot of face planting these days. The good news is that she hardly even blinks an eye anymore if she bops her head on something. The bad news is that she keeps getting carpet burn on her forehead. It looks like we bathe her with sandpaper and acid, but we don't, I swear! In fact, we use ridiculously overpriced Burt's Bees stuff because the smell is so intoxicating, they must grind up a unicorn and mix it in with every batch.
Also, she has all these toys, right? And I pile them in the middle of the floor. But what does she gravitate toward? The coffee table with poky metal feet and my dirty shoes that I never wear with socks and stink to high heaven.
Because of the pacifier obsession, I ordered one of these. $8.00 seems a little high, but this pacifier clip actually stays on without endangering small digits and/or lips, it works with any pacifier (even the Soothie or other smallish toys), and it's handmade and so cute. Hopefully there will be more in stock soon.