The Perect Storm
Ryan didn't nap. So Ainsley didn't nap. Not that she could have with Miss Slurpipants needing constant -- CONSTANT feeding. A friend called and offered to help if she could; I told her to just bring her boobs over.
Bailey used this opportunity of hubbubbery to tear open an old sebaceous lump on her chest, oozing blood and gunk that a) she wouldn't stop licking and b) you shouldn't describe over the phone when your wife is eating a tomato salad. It got worse, so here I was leaning back in the computer chair, with me holding one hand over her wound and the other holding my daughter while Ainsley took a quick shower -- finally got Ryan to follow instructions to stop what he was doing, go upstairs and say "Mommy, help Daddy." So he'll be good for dialing 9-1-1 when I have my inevitable nervous breakdown.
The Vet was still open, and he gave her some steroids for the swelling, antibiotics for the infection, and a half-body two-tone bandage wrap to keep a gauze pad over the festerance. (We had a spare head cone megaphone deal to keep her from licking it.)
So despite banging into furniture and walls and spooking Ryan, she seems to be doing better today. But she'll have to go in for surgery next week to get the lump permanently removed.
Erin, meanwhile, continues to grow like a fish, needing constant nourishment and/or attention. It was a night that felt like she's been crying since 2007. I tried to sit with her, but she would have nothing of it. I had to bring her up to Ainsley before she had even gotten to sleep.
She had her two-week checkup (at 3 weeks, thanks to scheduling issues), and Ainsley reported a 'boring' analysis: she's fine. Everything's fine. She's 7lbs 9oz and a smidge below 22 inches.
Not that any of you care; that's just for me in thirteen months when Ainsley asks if I remember her stats from her first appt.
Bailey used this opportunity of hubbubbery to tear open an old sebaceous lump on her chest, oozing blood and gunk that a) she wouldn't stop licking and b) you shouldn't describe over the phone when your wife is eating a tomato salad. It got worse, so here I was leaning back in the computer chair, with me holding one hand over her wound and the other holding my daughter while Ainsley took a quick shower -- finally got Ryan to follow instructions to stop what he was doing, go upstairs and say "Mommy, help Daddy." So he'll be good for dialing 9-1-1 when I have my inevitable nervous breakdown.
The Vet was still open, and he gave her some steroids for the swelling, antibiotics for the infection, and a half-body two-tone bandage wrap to keep a gauze pad over the festerance. (We had a spare head cone megaphone deal to keep her from licking it.)
So despite banging into furniture and walls and spooking Ryan, she seems to be doing better today. But she'll have to go in for surgery next week to get the lump permanently removed.
Erin, meanwhile, continues to grow like a fish, needing constant nourishment and/or attention. It was a night that felt like she's been crying since 2007. I tried to sit with her, but she would have nothing of it. I had to bring her up to Ainsley before she had even gotten to sleep.
She had her two-week checkup (at 3 weeks, thanks to scheduling issues), and Ainsley reported a 'boring' analysis: she's fine. Everything's fine. She's 7lbs 9oz and a smidge below 22 inches.
Not that any of you care; that's just for me in thirteen months when Ainsley asks if I remember her stats from her first appt.
posted by Dan at 8:54 PM
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