barking at bubbles

There's a puddle of wee at my foot. Which is actually really helpful because I've been told to watch the colour of it. The depth of colour and tone tells me how dehydrated the little, culprit wee-er is. And trying to ascertain this from a wet nappy or the bath water is not an easy task. This is, by comparison, a perfectly delightful exercise.

This week I was charged with taking happy snaps of poo-ey nappies. Our Paediatrician likes to keep a database of soiled nappies. Can you believe this? A little off-put at first, I have learnt to appreciate the greater purpose, as she whips up the offending specimen on desktop, displaying warning signs of a possible negative reaction to a course of antibiotics. The images even managed to silence the baby.

This has been a week of Croup in our family. Unsure as to what this actually was, Google provided temporary relief while we sat in emergency and coaxed the baby to keep the noisy, great nebuliser strapped to his head. The machine wheezed and pumped hot, steamy steroids down his little lungs and J read out loud. Croup refers to swelling around the vocal cords and O's was the result of a horrible respiratory infection he'd found and decided to taste at play group, and forgotten to tell me about. It all started last Monday night when I walked into his room to find a small barking seal pup gasping for air.

Aside from all the extra time we've had together, since the busy play group agenda got the big red cross through it, we've also discovered the wonderful world of bubble baths. Each night we sit in the depths of an overflowing tub of steamy, eucalyptus deliciousness and pop great, gum-tree tasting bubbles together. Who knew that even Croup could have an upside!