Silver linings

UNFORTUNATELY, our swinging nightlife has come to an end. We have arrived at the stage where we have to take bedtime seriously or suffer the consequences. All of the sudden I'm noticing how many interesting events seem to happen at 7 or 8pm.

HOWEVER, enforced evenings at home with Edith going down early have given me time to read pleasure books again. I'd been out of the groove in which you're always half living in the book on your bedside nightstand, wondering during the workday what will come next. It's great to have that back.

UNFORTUNATELY, Edith is sick again. For about 24 hours now she has run a very high fever...with no other symptoms. She's a little less energetic than usual, but she does play and babble and eat and nap. The only common baby disease to which this pattern seems to correspond is roseola--in which case her fever should break tomorrow and pink spots should emerge shortly thereafter. Or not. It's so hard to diagnose her. We'll see what happens.

HOWEVER, the pleasure book I'm currently reading is Anne Fadiman's account of the cultural barriers between Hmong refugees to the United States and the Western medical establishment, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down. Thank God that for all my dislike of the medical establishment (apologies to my many doctor friends--we can talk about it), I at least can communicate my concerns about my daughter to doctors clearly in a common language, usually understand what they're trying to do for her, and can more or less negotiate the barriers between them and us. And my daughter, thank God, is not an epileptic infant on complex pharmaceutical cocktails. Just a feverish baby on Tylenol.

UNFORTUNATELY, we have once again paid for a week of daycare that Edith won't attend.

HOWEVER, it's so wonderful that she is cared for at a place where I'm sad for her when she doesn't get to go. She was suppoesd to finish her snowflake art project today. I hope she gets a chance next week.


And so to end with a few unrelated recent photos:


Edith was handed down a sweater from her cousin...that I made. At the time I had no idea a daughter of my own would soon be wearing it.


For the Chapel Hillians, please note that we are training her already (and doesn't she look long and leggy enough for the team?). As long as basketballs have tags, though, she's convinced that palming the ball is a snap.