Funny what one good picture can do. Only an hour and a half ago, I was cursing this blonde-headed monster of ours, this wee devil who not only refused the prospect of sleep, but then passed the time lunging for our forks and food as we ate dinner. "Go on, git!" I yelled at her, but she only laughed and crept back onto the coffee table, then made a play for my linguine. I was hungry. It was late. I'd just about had enough of her.
Then I upload the day's photos, and see this damn thing. Now I want to monkey-pile her into wakefullness and give her whatever she could possibly want: pasta, forks, live grenades, whatever.
What is, in truth, making me short with Abby is this confounded rash of hers that won't go away. I'm done with this rash...it's overstayed its welcome, by a grand amount of time. It looks - forgive me for not coming up with a better description here and stooping to the lowest common denominator - really, really owwie. Is that how you spell owwie? I have no clue. So yeah, her rash looks just awful; when I pull off her diaper, I get that tingling little weird sensation in my spine that I get when I see something cringe-worthy. Remember Jared Leto's arm in the end of "Requiem for a Dream"? Not that bad...but close.
We've been to the doctor a few times (we = Jen + girls) and they gladly take our $15 copay (thanks to Abby, we're getting $15 copayed straight into bankruptcy) and they tell us that rashes are hard to diagnose, and give us "something that should clear it up". Whatever they give us, it never works. This rash, at best, only pauses momentarily at the sight of whatever balm they give us. After a few applications it seems to evolve, then marches on happily spreading or getting redder or bumpier or pussier.
In the meantime, she's becoming difficult to change with two of us, and almost impossible for one. Credit Jen for being able to do that in the daytime. When her diaper is off, she becomes very irritable, extremely thrashy, and stops at nothing to scratch her rash down in the crotchety region. That was just changing, though, and it was something we could handle. Lately, the rash has become even worse and Abby will abruptly depart her good nature and start screeching, writhing on the floor, bawling and obviously in pain.
I've had it with this rash. That's an empty statement, because what am I going to do? Nothing. I'll keep changing diapers while using my legs to hold her arms down. Keep ramming benadryl into her in the hopes that it takes the edge of the itchiness. Keep hoping this latest cocktail of yeast/rash/whatever killing ointment helps.
It's terrible to see your kid in pain. It drains the very blood from you to not be able to help. I'm tired and fed up with it.
What makes it totally bearable is that she's a riot all the other times. I tend to block out the bad times when the good ones come along, and that seems to help. The rather stiff gin and tonic I just had works as well.
Day one hundred and forty six.
Wow, I hope you get the rash figured out, that's no fun! I just read a few days in a row and can't believe the differences in foot size. I love their faces in that shot. Don't ever stop this blog, I really look forward to it!
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