Okay my peeps, I know the story I posted the other day wasn't really true. And, I happen to love a lot of Obama supporters. All in fun, ya know? Listen, if I've gone through life being blonde, female, polish and Catholic, the rest of you yaps can take a joke.
Try as you might, you can not possibly ruin my great mood - because the babe has been fixed! Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!
Frustrated with my annoying pediatrician in So Cal, I made like a stalker and had the Screamin' Ia seen by my pediatrician here in Washington. The poor man has seen this family through ameabas and yucky skin problems, speech impediments and faulty nursing. He's given us his personal email address and if it weren't for him, we probably wouldn't have survived those countries we trekked to for the last few years.
While I had a well baby appointment set, it just so happened my little babe had a fever to get me to his office all the sooner. Unlike my annoying doc in California, this guy listens. Long story short, that 'nothing more than a laundry problem' the California doc said I had from Sophia spitting up all the time, and the fact that I CAN NOT put the kid down, and SHE WON"T SLEEP (attributed to just a wild little babe - 'and be glad of that,' she said, 'the other ones usually have some sort of problem.') This guy said, you know what, it's probably acid reflux. Let's try an antacid and see.
You know what? That kid has been on zantac for three days and it is an amazing transformation. She SLEEPS. She can be put down and can actually roll around. We didn't know this before as she was PERMENANTLY ATTACHED TO MY CHEST or strapped into a 30 degree bouncy seat. I actually got five, yes, count them, FIVE hours of sleep IN A ROW last night. I don't know what to do with myself.
I'd give that doc a big ol' kiss straight on the lips if I weren't convinced he'd take out a restraining order on me.
So, now I have to get over my antihypochondriaciness I seem to have and that big ol' catholic mother guilt that I've let that kid suffer for seven months. Fifth kid, you'd think I'd get it right,...