I interrupt my busy crapting schedule to make announcements concerning the ole Tremayne country farm.
Let's start with thee, um, fun ones, shall we?
would be my kindergartner's western dance program.
Or I could just say, "part 2 of 'in the parenthood' nerdyness."
So I smiled and giggled through it; I snapped pictures and waved like the dweeby mom I am.
And then we got to The Macarena. You know? The Macarena.?. Right? You might even have a video of you on your wedding day, if you're like me, doing The Macarena. You might not if you're not a complete nerd. Whatever.
Anywho, my smiles turned to laughing shock/humiliations galore when I saw this:
("Heeeey Macarena. . .. Aye!")
Oh sorry. You might not know which child I'm referring to. The one with a kungfu grip on his cheeks. You know, this one?
Horrified, I tell you. I didn't teach him that. I can just see his teacher now not wanting to embarrass him during practice saying:
"now children, where do our hands go at the end? On our backs. Like this." And she sees no improvement.
Well, at least, after careful review, I do see another child with the cheek squeeze going on. Phew.
And on to. . . the notsofun.
What's on her face, beside that alligator tear? Poo. POO. Poo on her face, all over her sheets, on her crib, on her bumper pads, smeared on her binky. . ..
That yellow/green mark behind her face on her blankie? Pooooooo.
I put her in the shower with Daddy. (I do have a picture of that but, um, I think that's where my husband's good humor will come to an abrupt halt).
And that's when he noticed: what the heck is going on with our little girl's skin?
It quickly turned to this.
And spread up and down her bod.
When she woke up from her nap with massively puffy eyelids, I wigged out, man. Thank heavens for urgent cares open on Sundays.
Today, after lots of hydrocortisone and 2 doses of Benadryl, we still have zees:
Yowsas. Could be simple hay fever. Could be a food. Could be that Jeff used ivory soap on her yesterday to clean the poooooo. Could just be the POOO.