Oh Lord, what a couple of weeks it's been, and today was of a piece with the rest of it. We spent most of the day in urgent care, or driving between urgent care locations, waiting for returned phone calls, and not knowing who to call, trying to figure out why our baby girl has welts the size of my palm on her buttocks and thigh. Why? Who knows. The answer appears to be: no answer. Boy do I miss our pediatrician back in Boston.
The swelling has gone down. We gave her a dose of the medicine prescribed at bedtime. The next time she's up I'm looking again. My dad had an idea it might be a bite of some kind. It didn't seem so before, but on examination at jammy time, there were some smallish red circles heretofore invisible. Hm. I'm not worrying about it. I'm trying. In fact I am NOT worrying about money, our poor diet, our messy house, my husband's work stress, the tiresome cold we've all contracted, or the fact that I finally cheated on my challenge and used the dryer to do Jane's diapers. I was behind. And I did not want to put disposables on that precious little miserable butt. No, I'm not worrying about any of these things, or indeed any of the other things I am also not worrying about.
Instead, I am putting together this album for you of our beautiful day yesterday. The sun came out. It was 55 or so, and we started tilling. We double dug the grassy garden, and up came rich, moist, oh so wormy soil. Plenty of work to go, but a cleansing, lovely day, and lots to be thankful for:
Matt and I each double dug a plot, and next chance, we'll bring them together. Dirt romance. Plenty more room for more digging, if you'd like to have a whack at it. And PLENTY room for advice. To be honest, we have no idea what we're doing. Ain't it grand?