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Dear Kaylee, at 38 months

Dear Kaylee,

We are still dealing with your eye lump.  Ugh.  Every morning and every night is devoted to holding a warm compress to your face for as long as you'll let me -- right now you'll let me sing the ABCs, followed by "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," followed by counting to 15 -- and then smearing medicine on it.  It's looking better, but everyone who sees you still asks what happened to your face.  We took you to McDonald's over the weekend for ice cream and play time, and you immediately befriended another little girl.  At one point, she took a quick break from playing to run over to her father and say, "There's something wrong with her eye.  Should we do something?"  I'm really looking forward to the day when strangers are no longer inspired to pity when they look at you.  Probably only slightly less than you are looking forward to that day.


I kind of feel like a bad mom because of that eye, too.  About a week ago, we had random run-ins with two doctors that we hadn't met before, and both of them commented on your eye "infection."  At our appointment three weeks ago, the eye doctor said it didn't seem infected and declined to prescribe antibiotics, so I was convinced you were fine.  Until those doctors made those comments last week.  Then I scrolled through old blog entries, came across this photo and literally gasped with shock.  Because as bad as I thought your eye looked on the day of that appointment, it looked so much worse last week.  How could I not have noticed that?  Here you were, walking around with an obvious infection on your face, and I just missed it.  I called your eye doctor's office and we got a prescription for amoxicillin to carry us through until your follow-up visit today.  You've been on it since Friday, and already your eye looks so much better.  I'm not looking forward to that doctor's visit, though.  This thing was supposed to be almost cleared up by now, and it's just not.  I hope the doctor gives it a little more time.  I don't want the answer to be surgery.


This month has brought with it an increase in jealousy in our house.  Your brother is no longer too little to do every little thing you do, and it's starting to bug you.  Whenever he gets to try something new, like drinking water from a sippy cup, suddenly you have to do it, too.  I have a feeling you'll be demanding jars of baby food in the next few weeks, and we'll be tasked with convincing you that the food you get to eat is way, way better.  The problem with this strategy is that, someday, Robbie will get to eat the way better food, too.  Someday you'll have to face the reality that Robbie's going to get to do all the same stuff you do, and you'll just have to deal with it.  I am not looking forward to the screaming.


You've increased your ability to make things up this month, too.  We'll be hanging out, watching an episode of "The Backyardigans" for the bazillionth time and you'll launch into a story about how you climbed a ladder and went way up to the sky and jumped and caught a butterfly and saw a pony and ate an ice cream cone, and we just smile and nod and say, "Oh yeah?"  We want to encourage this imaginative streak, especially because I keep reading that all this TV I'm letting you watch is killing your creativity.  (Just imagine how creative you'd be if I didn't let you watch television.  Good lord, that would be a level of insanity I'm not sure I could deal with.)


You speak so well these days and in such perfect, complete sentences that sometimes I just stare at you in wonder of how far you've come.  I pulled an old memory card out of my camera bag over the weekend and used it to take a few pictures before discovering some old photos from two years ago.  Look at this:


And look you now:


In the space of those two years, you have become an opinionated, wonderful, talkative, sweet, surly, crazy, beautiful little monster/princess/angel/devil, and I wouldn't have it any other way.



Reader Comments (5)

That photo of her jumping is amazing!

Try not to worry too much about her eye. It's incredibly unfortunate, of course, but it's not your fault or anything. It will eventually heal. Poor girl.

July 14, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterKate

I feel your pain! I cringe when we take Morgan in public with her splint (from shoulder to finger)...everybody stares!

July 14, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterValerie

I know how you feel with the comments about Kaylee's appearance. Rowan has a hermangioma birthmark on the tip of her nose and everyone from little kids to the elderly have asked if she got hurt/what's wrong with her. When she was a baby I'd get bent out of shape and tell them I punched her, but now I let Rowan field the questions, which she does in such a way that makes the asker look and feel like a complete idiot. And that's how I know I've done a good job parenting her :).

July 14, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterrkmama

Love that photo of Levitating Kaylee!

Isn't it wonderful to watch her imagination kick in!? She's at one of my all-time favorite ages.

Good luck with her poor little eye ... and the jealousy!

July 15, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterLisa

[...] torn.  As I just finished saying yesterday, I didn’t want surgery to be the answer.  But at the same time, I didn’t want “wait six [...]

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