On Friday, we took Squeaker to get her shots. I still don’t drive in Santiago and I didn’t want to take her after being poked full of dead or weakened diseases through the metro or on an insane taxi jaunt, so I waited for a good time for us to all go together. Thank God! We needed it.
As we undressed her in the clinic, exposing her plump little baby legs for the nurse, she looked up at us smiling and cooing her normal content baby coo. It nearly broke my heart. It reminded me of when my mom told me she brought me to get my 12-month vaccines and, as the doctor unwrapped the needle, I said, “Mommy! They are going to give me candy!” (Is that perhaps why I turned out to be a the-glass-is-half-empty kind of girl?)
The nurse gave her the first vaccine, and her whole body contorted in pain. The next thing I knew, I was crying, too. The nurse told me I should talk to her to comfort her, but the words wouldn’t come out. They were locked in a thick lump in my throat. Given the billions of people around the world who have been vaccinated, it was, frankly, embarrassing to have my husband and the nurse comforting me more than the baby. “You’ll be okay. They are good for her….good for her…there, there.”
All things considered, she was a good sport. I was the one who walked out still sniffing into the waiting room, which begs the question: how am I going to react when she scrapes her knee? Or needs stitches? They’ll have to sedate me.
We decided that since
we she had had a rough afternoon and she’s too small to bribe with ice cream (or a pony) we were going to go out to the park. Of course, she promptly fell asleep and the outing was more for us adults.
Since being back, I’ve had several friends write and tell me they are envious of the weather here. I hear that in Minnesota they have hit the January cold snap in a big way. While I don’t miss the cold, I also don’t enjoy the sweltering heat, or the UV index that keeps us trapped inside all but the early morning or late evening hours. If we do happen to venture out, it’s under the cover of hats (Squeaker doesn’t understand the concept of a hat), sunglasses (mine, she would probably try to eat hers), and heavy-duty sunscreen to protect
our her delicate complexion s.
Besides that, we’ve been busy writing, reading chunky books, staring like we don’t know what to make of the rattle, and hitting the iPad screen because that’s fun. Oh…and this is how I eat now, just so you have an idea.