September 23, 2006
Well, what a month this has been. Lola has been ill for much of it. First there was that hospital stay which required 10 horrible days of antibiotics. I must elaborate. As a veterinarian, I often have the joyful experience of ramming awful tasting medicine down the gullet of a writhing, biting, and clawing cat. (Why they make cherry flavored drugs for cats I will NEVER understand). This task is nothing compared to ramming awful tasting drugs down the gullet of my daughter. It takes both Wil and I to do it. For 10 days we would get up in the morning, feed her, act like everything was normal, and then casually lay her down on the floor next to the kitchen. Wil would fill the syringe with banana flavored goo and I would straddle Lola and pin her arms and legs down. Fully aware by now of her horrible fate, at this point the screaming would begin. In between screams, Wil would slowly squeeze the nearly full tablespoon of drugs into her mouth, blowing on her face to force her to swallow. Then the whole thing would be repeated that evening.
After that was over, we had about a week of bliss, and then teething resumed. Imagine how great it was trying to get baby tylenol into Lola, who by now wouldn't trust us even if we were trying to give her a cookie. After that bout of teething, she caught another cold, and was back on antibiotics. Could life suck any more? Just wait, it can! Just when things seemed to be going well, all hell broke loose. Lola was particularly fussy one evening after we had been to a birthday party for one of her little friends. I thought she had just eaten too much sweet stuff, or played too hard. Then she turned all Linda Blair on me. My GOD! I had no idea her stomach could hold that much vomit. Worse, it wasn't any ordinary vomit (again, this is one thing that as a vet, I am pretty used to dealing with), no by golly, it was curdled milk with little chunks of Gerber Meat Stick nicely mixed in. An occasional pea added a nice spark of color to the palate. Anyway, the poor kid had the stomach flu. Got it at day care. After a fitful night spent on the couch watching reruns of Letterman, she seemed all better. Then she gave it to me.
I thought I was going to die. In fact, at times while I laid on the bathroom floor, I almost wished for sweet death to take me. Needless to say, I was so ill that I could hardly move, let alone take care of Lola. Wil had to stay home from work for two days to take care of her so I could recover. By the time I came out of my flu enduced funk, I hadn't nursed her in two days. The sad thing is, she didn't really care. She was cool with her sippy cup and her formula. I was planning on starting to slowly wean her anyway, but it was still kind of sad having it just sort of done for me. She is still nursing once a day, in the evening, but doesn't really care. I think she will be weaned by next week. And while my boobs are having a small party, I am a little bummed. It is hard to explain how having a living parasite hanging off your boob for 10 months is a good thing, but I guess I will kind of miss it a little. Only when I am not enjoying a good margarita though.
Lola has developed an interesting new habit. We have moved her to the big bathtub now, and she loves it! She flops around in there like a salmon trying to get upstream to spawn. Unfortunately, it seems to relax her enough that she just lets loose in the tub. Just goes right ahead and poops. Yup. No biggie, you are thinking, just fish the little turd out and clean the tub up. Oh no, you see, Lola can't just expell one little turd. Have you ever watched those nature shows on Animal Planet? Have you seen the one about the hippos?
Have you seen how hippos poop? The shoot out a big wad of recycled weeds and grass into the water, which is quickly churned into a frothy mess of particles by the hippo's tail. The tails acts as a propeller to disperse the mess out into the surrounding water. This is exactly what my daughter does. She poops a small clump of loosely held together recycled peas and sweet potatoes which is then dispersed throughout the entire tub in a matter of seconds by her churning arms and legs. Before I can even blink she has managed to completely saturate the tub and all the toys in it with fecal matter. This requires me to pull her out, rinse her off, and then thoroughly clean not only the tub, but the bath mat and all the toys as well. I now have stock in Clorox.
On a final note, Wil and I were having dinner at the local cafe last night. Lola was sitting quietly in the high chair eating a cracker when she cut the loudest fart that I might have ever heard come out of a baby. Without even flinching I said to Wil, "She still has diarrhea." Before I could notice the couple sitting across from us staring, Wil responded "Oh, don't worry, she had a thick one this morning." Parenthood changes a person!
Until next time!
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