Cravings

If ever my daughter comes to you in a fit of teenage angst and suggests that I, her mother, do not love her, please do me a favour and remind her of the time I gave up sugar for the health of her tiny bottom. Will you do that for me?

The thrush is nearly gone, by which I mean that if you hadn't seen her bum when the thrush was bad then you wouldn't be able to see the tiny remnants of the spots still haunting her. The spots faded dramatically for about two weeks and since then have not changed at all. So I'm not completely sure when to stop describing it as "nearly gone" and declare it "totally gone", and until that moment I remain sugar-free and slightly jittery.

It's been a good, and busy, week. Gwen and I had a great visit with Sally and her tiny dog Finnegan, wherein Sally and I got to discuss all sorts of intriguing subjects. Gwen and I also drove out to Horne Lake Campground the other night to visit briefly with Mike, Jenn, and the newly-shorn Zoe. This morning, Gwen stayed with her Grandma while Chris and I went out to Save That Child, a first aid course for parents. We learned a lot, and I was glad I'd made the decision to leave Gwen at home (though we were welcome to bring our babies, and every other couple did) because I wouldn't have been able to focus on what was being taught if my entire attention span was taken up by the practice of Making Gwen Not Scream. We have learned recently that Gwen ... she does not cry like other babies. No, hers is more of a sonic scream. There is no conversation within 50 feet of an unhappy Gwen. So if one needs to concentrate, converse, and learn, one should leave Gwen elsewhere.

Gwen is working hard on some new skills these days. She definitely recognizes me and often smiles in greeting, which is incredible. She can very nearly roll over (back to front), and is starting to reach out for toys or books or other things of interest, though she isn't yet good at grasping them. She is almost laughing. She can bring her hands together, and she tries quite hard to suck her thumb (she would succeed, too, if it weren't always wedged between her first two fingers).

Tomorrow is our third attempt to have our portraits taken; hopefully Gwen will have a good sleep and a good morning and be full of smiles and charm.