Monday, August 25, 2008

A happier post from a now-defunct blog

Posted 4/15/2008 9:55 AM CDT
Yesterday was one of those days with my daughter that I'll want to remember.
Since we had a 9am appointment with the pediatric allergist, we had time for a more leisurely morning. We took our time eating blackberries for breakfast. I love to watch my daughter happily make a mess by squeezing them, letting the juice run down her chin and her fingers.

Then we walked the dog together. Walking the dog with her always takes twice as long to go half as far. She runs off and gets distracted with all the flowers, and then the dog seizes the opportunity to dawdle and sniff. My goal is to get my dog exercised and emptied as soon as possible. But neither of them care for my goal.

Off to the pediatric allergist. See, she has eczema and since my sister is allergic to just about everything, I was worried that the real cause was allergies. A nurse scratched her back with 14 potential allergens. My daughter was cool with it for a while, but of course she lost it eventually. At two, she understands so much--but not enough. "No, that hurts!" she says, and I tell her it hurts now but it will make her feel better later. When the nurse comes in to check on the test spots, my daughter goes ballistic. And then she's all sweetness and light for the doctor, who seems to feel guilty. "The nurse gets that all the time, but I'm the one that ordered the tests," he sadly says. It turns out she's not allergic to milk or the dog or eggs or the other things I was worried about. Yay.

My girl recovers beautifully, and I'm SO proud of her. Off to daycare, where she's pleasantly surprised that her day is going to get back to normal. "I see Lucy? I see Emerson?" she asks me as we pull into the parking lot, naming her little friends.

That evening is the book fair at school. We eat hot dogs and drink lemonade at a tiny table with tiny chairs. My daughter solemnly explains to me, "this my table." "Is this where you sit for lunch?" I ask. "Yessss."

After buying us each a hot dog, I only have enough cash to buy a book for her classroom and not enough for the Clifford book my daughter so nicely asks for. She puts the book back and cries. And I think this is one of the first times that she's really asked for something reasonable--politely, using her words--and I've said no. Wow, it hurts. It's easy to say no to candy or to riding in the front seat or to playing PlayDoh on the couch. But this is hard and I'm gonna have to get used to it.

And for the second time today, she recovers quickly.We drive home and she's good during the trip. We talk about how her shoes are dirty and about the birds we see out the window. At this point, she can do no wrong in my eyes. When we get home, I give her some gumdrops. I tell her dad how wonderful she is. And her dad and I let her stay up a few minutes late just to play with her dad some more.

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