Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Con-Sti-Pa-Tion constipation is the name! Keep-the-rhythm or you'll be out the game
Oh my poor Arianna. This kid has always had some difficulty keeping the rhythm, if you know what I mean, and she ends up with a back up worse than the 405 in south county at 5:30 on a Wednesday. Well we had finally gotten it somewhat under control through a daily regiment of prune juice multiple times through out the day but now we are suffering collateral damage from the weekend at Grandam's house. You see, despite the note I left reminding Grandma, she forgot about the prune juice requirement. I have to let her slide her, though, because it was kind of overwhelming being her first time overnight with the girls for almost two full days. Unfortunately, though, Arianna now has to deal with the fall out. ... or lack of fall out I guess you could say. She looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel last night, but all she managed was a little gas. I feel so bad for her. Her little tummy is all filled out, and she doesn't want to eat because her stomach hurts her. Then she just stands there crying in pain and turning red from trying to push so hard. We even tried a suppository, but it didn't work, and getting it in there in the first place was like hammering wooden nails in to a brick wall. I had hoped that after she fell asleep, maybe she'd relax a little and pass something in her sleep, so when we checked on them before going to bed ourselves I made Gina (against her protests that there was nothing in there) stick a finger in and double check. There was nothing (Gina's always right) and it woke up Arianna so we had to dive for cover on the floor where I received glares for the next 3 or 4 minutes before we finally crawled out of the room on our hands and knees while Arianna scoured the room in a half asleep daze. I felt like Indiana Jones sneaking out of some jungle temple trying to hide from the all seeing eye of some idyllic statue that turns people to goo. Actually I felt more like his Asian sidekick, Short Round, in the Temple of Doom stepping on the booby trap devise and saying "oops" with a sheepish grin. I was then forcibly reminded of where Gina's finger had been as a future warning to trust what she tells me and not my gut instincts. Lesson learned. ... and most likely quickly forgotten.
at 7:32 AM