Friday, September 14, 2007

it's all my side of the bed, mummy

Well, the big Daddy is home, safe and well, if jetlagged and smelly. He's off again this morning to Canberra- but just for one night, and then home for a week.

Ivy has been sick all week with a yukky virus - erupting a bit (both ends), really lethargic and sporting a scary florid rash. There have been a couple of trips to the medical centre, including one where we were given instructions on how to extract a urine sample from a baby. (Lets just say it involves a bag with sticky edges and a lot of luck - and we never managed it). The nurse instructing us had the following exchange with Keith:

Nurse - So you just need enough wee to cover the base of the specimen jar - not heaps.
Keith - OK, so just cover the bottom?
Nurse - (leaning in with the earnestness of the health professional) Ah, well, actually there are three holes. You want to make sure you get the bag over the top two, and then...
Keith - Um, I get the anatomy... I meant the jar...

How we laughed.

Ivy has taken to sleeping in our bed while she's been sick - no fun for us. She likes to curl in close to me, driving me closer and closer to the edge of the bed, or else spread out sideways, head in Keith's belly and feet kicking me. In her first few feverish days, she was waking me every 45 minutes, and wouldn't let me turn the bedside light off, so I would spend all night contorted uncomfortably under lights, with frequent kickings. Geez I felt for David Hicks.

new habits:


1. Baby sleep cycles last about 45 minutes, and Ivy used to wake up, grizzle and squirm for a while and often go back to sleep. Now she's taken to sitting up in her cot after each short sleep, but can't get down again, so stares at the door, or faces forlornly into the corner and whimpers until somebody appears to rescue her.

2. I don't know if it's a Piagetian developmental stage or a complex manipulational tool but Ivy has started throwing everything off her high chair tray and then peering over the side at it for long periods. Like a dog with a bone, there's method to her madness though - yesterday an ominous silence led me to her sitting on the floor chewing on a piece of vegemite sandwich she had 'stored' under the couch.

3. Mimicking coughing - an odd and impressive trick Babushka has taught her. This increases the total of conversational tools at Ivys disposal to: brrmmmmm brmmmmm, dadadadada, cough cough, ai-ai-ai-ai, and applauding herself.

In short, shes nearly back to her bouncy, bonny self. And as soon as we catch up on the sleep, the washing and the gossip, Keith and I will be too.

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.