The parade passes through the kitchen.

“All Hail, Mary the Baby.”

The infant is carried, her royal entourage follows waving arms and beaming their adoration.

“All Hail, Mary the Baby.”

The parade moves on to another part of the house.

There was a time I worried that my younger children would never have the same love and attention I gave to my older ones. I was right. It’s not the same. But I’m no longer worried about that.

I’m now worried about how I could ever possibly keep that little girl from being spoiled.

Mary has chicken pox now.

Or perhaps it’s just mosquito bites.

I think the only difference between the first child and the sixth is the degree of worry. With Fritz, I thought perhaps he was really sick, too, only with him, I took him to the pediatrician.

Now I just blog about it: I think my daughter’s dying, but I’m going to wait and see.

But seriously, she does have a diaper rash (and some other bumps that are probably mosquito bites…or chicken pox), and it just won’t quit. The creams work, but only if I keep putting it on. I think the heat is making is worse, but I know these disposable diapers with no air circulation aren’t helping a bit.

And so, a bleg, for all you eco-friendly, thrifty, superwomen moms out there who cloth-diaper their babies’ tender bottoms. Tell me what I need and where to get it and how many and what a good price is.

Mary has been sick for the last three or four days. This morning, she woke up with a rash. I used a handy reference book I have with a flow chart, and I concluded, based on the questions answered as best as I could, that she has measles.

Now she’s not even 9 months old, and children are not routinely immunized for measles until one year, so she does not have that protection.

Online, I researched measles and found this site with a drawing of a child with measles. Her rash is no where near that dark, but it does have that same mottled look.

Measles, though, is not something that spontaneously springs from your body. You have to get it somewhere. Since it is spread through coughing and sneezing, I know that I could have picked up virus droplets in any public place and transferred them to her. She could have picked them up in a grocery cart or while banging her hands on the church pew.

Looking at measles cases in the U.S. brought me to this article from last month which states that there have been 72 cases of measles so far this year (and this article shows that one person in Fairfax, VA, which is in my general vicinity, brought measles over from India).

There is one comment on the News-Medical article:

I would rather my autistic son had died of measles than live the shadow of a life that he is destined for with his condition. Autism robbed him of his soul.

This is so sad. I cannot imagine the difficulties of raising an autistic child, especially one who seemed normal and suddenly had problems. I also cannot imagine the emptiness of losing a child. I do not think the grass is green on either side of this fence.

I don’t really think that Mary has measles. The virus that has given her a fever for several days now was given to her by her siblings, two of whom have not been immunized for measles and neither of whom broke out in any rash. Besides that, she just hasn’t seemed very sick. Sick, but not measly.

I’ll keep an eye on her, and I’ll pray that she gets better soon. And I’ll pray for the autistic son and his parents, that they find healing: if not physical, then emotional.

In complete defiance of my request, she’s getting bigger every day. In less than a week, she’ll be 8 months old.

I had to get some last shots of her gummy grin. She’s just popped her first teeth, so in a few weeks her smile will be different.

Pretty girls.

If I pinch you really hard will you quit with that flash already?

Yes, he does hold babies every now and then.

If I don’t look at him, he’ll go away, right?

She told you to stay, and if you don’t, my head is gonna hit that hard floor. So you better, or I’ll chase you mercilessly in about 4 or 5 months. Oh, who am I foolin’? I’ll chase you mercilessly in 4 or 5 months anyway.

STOP GROWING!! I mean it. Just for a few months, okay? You are really cute. You are easy to please. You don’t move when I put you down. You sing these really sweet gurgle-y baby songs. Sometimes you even nap for an hour or so. Your smile makes everybody smile back. You tame tough nine year old boys into gentle baby-talkers. Stay just.like.this for just a little while longer, okay?

Love,
Mom

FINALLY!

I ain’t gonna weigh her no more, no more!
I ain’t gonna weigh her no more!
Come on down, Everybody Sing!
I ain’t gonna weigh her no more!

* Barb, was I whining about this to you just yesterday? I weighed her today and she was WAY UP! She has her four month well baby on Monday, but I’m done with this scale. No more bottles, no more worries. God is good!

Mom, fix the flash setting, will you?

Hey, kid, you’re kinda funny.

But please tell me we’re not related.

We ARE? Interesting…perhaps I should be concerned?

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” cries the baby as she wakes up from her nap.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” continues the baby as her daddy picks her up.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” persists the baby as her daddy changes her diaper.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” wails the baby as her daddy carries her into the kitchen.

And then……….silence……….as the baby feels her mommy’s soft arms and hears her mommy’s soothing voice.