It’s been eight days since I last wrote. Yikes. I’m blaming it on Mercury in retrograde or something like that. The universe has been conspiring against me and my computer time.
The good news is that I finally sent in my application for permanent residency, personal statement and all. Now, I just wait.
On Friday, we brought Squeaker to a specialist, a pediatric gastroenterologist. We had been on the list but not until mid-March. Mid-March of putting up with her colic and our worries over her “poor weight gain”. Fortunately, a former student of mine (also a gastroenterologist) knew the specialist personally and pulled a favor. We got in that day.
He was very thorough in his examination of Squeaker and she loved the attention. She’s a very sociable baby when she’s not colicky. (I mean, she has friends that I don’t even have. All of the doormen at our building know her, “SQUEAKER! How are you doing this morning?” Whereas they’ve never greeted me with such excitement. Ever. Sorry, tangent.) “If this baby crawled in here on her own, without you two, I would have no idea why she came,” he said, and I quote. She’s still in the 50th percentile for weight, so he told us not to worry about certain per-day weight gains or weight milestones. And I go back to what I’ve been saying all along, “WE are her parents. WE are not big people. How are WE going to have a giant baby?”
It figures that while we are in the doctor’s office discussing her digestive issues, she decided to poop the gusher of all poops. That’s when I noticed I was out of diapers, which is just a recipe for disaster. Cut to us carrying her precariously as we dashed through the mall next door to find diapers as not to, er, agitate the situation. Digestive issues: solved.
On the home front, we are still looking for a new apartment. We found one we really like but haven’t heard anything definite back, yet. Keep your fingers crossed that good ol’ Mercury doesn’t mess this up since our current apartment looks like a losing game of Tetris and the housing market in Santiago is a huge, highly competitive bubble.
Speaking of, I found someone to come and help me clean our micro-apartment. At first, we thought we’d hold off until we moved, but I hate scrubbing toilets, especially with a screaming baby, and mostly…I just hate scrubbing toilets. Eventually, I decided that my time is more valuable spent elsewhere, and since I don’t particularly enjoy domestic work, nor mind handing off the reins to someone else, it’s perfect. I cannot tell you how happy I was the day she came. It was like Christmas for women who fail at stay-at-home-motherhood.
I’ve been working on another bloggy project, which maybe I’ll announce soon. Stay tuned. If I have any readers who live or have lived in Chile and have something to share about the experience, contact me!