Eyesore

If you have a baby, you will be familiar with the curse of conjunctivitis. If not, you are wandering through life in blissful ignorance. Lucky old you. At the end of last year, the Princess had an accumulation of green stuff in one eye. A kind of trail of snot from the eye as the Glam Potter so eloquently put it. This accompanied by pinkness and unhappy babiness is conjunctivitis. It is supposed to be very contagious. So, the first time she had it I washed all her clothes/bed clothes, wiped all her toys with disinfectant and rinsed all her soft toys. A bit of a herculean task, I can tell you. The second time she got it, I was less thorough (I mean, she had got it again, so, clearly, my previous efforts were in vain) but still reasonably thorough. She got it again at the weekend. I said to Mr. Waffle “Well, it’s obviously not that contagious, neither of us have ever got it”. Hubris, fate, kismet, all these things were lurking round the corner. I have it. Both eyes. I can wipe out the trail of snot (something the Princess is less good at) but I still look like a battered spouse who’s been crying her eyes out. I am actively contemplating wearing dark glasses. On the plus side, the Princess is better now. I am a bit worried about the cleaning up operation, I don’t suppose that it will be as thorough as it was in the past. Now that the Princess is more mobile, her little hands get everywhere. However, I suppose our hygiene standards are not what they once were in any event (as we observed only the other day while we sat watching her eating a beer mat).

And in other weird injuries, my right hand seems to have seized up a bit.  I mentioned it to the Glam Potter who said that she and her sister-in-law suffer from this also and her sister-in-law’s GP says a lot of mothers suffer from it and it’s hormonal. Superb. I hope it clears up before we go off on our skiing trip. I can see myself on piste, exhausted after a trying night with the Princess, trying to “plant my baton” (this is how French ski instructors speak) with my sore hand. Great.

On a positive note, Mr. Waffle’s parents are coming for a long weekend. We’re looking forward to having them and not just for the babysitting…however, we will take advantage of their babysitting abilities so I expect the weekend to be a whirl, nay, a vortex, of dissipation.