The Week That Got Away From Me

Ever have one of those weeks where nothing goes as you planned, your days are hectic, your kids a little crazy, your house is a mess, but somehow you managed to get the important things right? Here's mine.

Sunday: Celebrate best friend's birthday together with her and her family for the first time in 15+ years. Forget camera, of course, but remember baby. No leaving this kiddo in a drawer somewhere.

Monday: Take Gabe and Pete to pediatric ophthalmologist in Reno.

**Gabe does great. He's still coming down from his high last week at the pediatric glaucoma specialist's when he did his ENTIRE EXAM IN THE OFFICE. Which translated to: 1) one new, previously-used xbox game for Gabe, and 2) NO HOSPITAL EXAM UNDER ANESTHESIA for mom and dad to pay for and Gabe to fret over. (Nate, of course, still needs the EUA.)

**Pete also does great. Use saved bottle of formula from the hospital nursery to give to him during the exam, so the doc can get pressure readings, a focus point reading, and a thorough look at his optic nerve and corneas. All of which indicate that Pete has NO SIGNS of primary congenital glaucoma. Cannot adequately express how much a relief this is.

Enjoy a meal of Wayland's famous ribs with my best friend's family. Lament that her trip up north is so short. Laugh hysterically. Vow to get together more often. And plot a scheme to convince Way to share his recipes.

TUESDAY: Attend Relief Society dinner; first such outing with Pete. Offend sister who is spewing an awful cough ("I've been on antibiotics since last night," gasps she), by moving my baby to other side of gym. Seriously, why do sick people think everyone else wants to share in their misery? And why do we feel bad for avoiding them? Bemoan to all within hearing distance about my sore, burning, cracked, and bleeding nipples caused by my voracious eater. My mom cracks, "It's a good thing it's October, since he's like a vampire!"

WEDNESDAY: "You know, they're WEIRD, but they're GOOD," says my friend Deann after hearing I'd called La Leche regarding my woeful nipple situation.

La Lache leader calls me back, listens to my symptoms, asks a few questions, then diagnoses: "I think you've got thrush."

"But," say I, "There's no white stuff in Pete's mouth."

"Because thrush presents in different ways, and sometimes there are no visible symptoms at all," says the LL leader. "Call your doctor for treatment."

Call doctor; rush to Reno. Available doctor proclaims: "Those are great looking nipples. You DO NOT have thrush. Use lanolin. Or a nipple shield."

Already used up 1 1/2 tubes of lanolin, so stop to buy a nipple shield. Nate breaks candle in hospital boutique. Bite lip to not curse. Offer to buy candle; offer refused. Proceed to buy new candle and Halloween decorations in addition to nipple shield out of guilt. At home, nipple shield is useless joke. Total cost of unproductive trip to Reno: $63, plus gas.

Devour information online regarding thrush. Convince self doctor is WRONG.

THURSDAY: Morning. Discover white patches in sides of Pete's cheeks (really, who thinks to look inside the cheeks? It's hard to see in there anyway since they are so thick; it's like they're little filets). Call pediatrician.

Afternoon. Pediatrician confirms it is thrush. Pete weighs in at 13 pounds, 11.5 ounces. "Hah!" say I, "He does not have a latch issue!"

Evening. Brave blustery fall evening to attend book signing for my friend from way back in junior high's new book: Freeze Frame. Here's a picture of me with my famous author friend, whom I dined with last week in my home. Very literary.


FRIDAY: Call OB doctor to gloat. Confirm he agrees with prescribed treatment. Sing praises to La Leche--they really ARE good.

Address birth announcements. Soooooo in love with boys' birth announcements. Plan future birth announcement post.

SATURDAY: Awake to one inch of snow. Decorate house for Halloween. Draft blog entry, much to Dan's chagrin (can't help it, when the writing mood strikes . . .). Cheer for Cougars. Sleep very well.