Monday, August 6, 2012

Lazy Monday

It was a hot, heavy, humid day.  Not only was I miserable, but by midday, I'm pretty sure that Abby was, too.  There are unit air conditioners in the bedrooms, but we spend much of the day on the main floor, and the atmosphere was oppressive.  Abby was covered in sweat and grime, and sprouting heat rashes in the small of her back and on her shoulders by the late afternoon.

Her Aunt Marcia tried to take her on a walk in the stroller, but she had no patience with it.  Instead, we brought her back inside, and Tom spent some time with her in the cooler air of the bedroom until her mood was restored.

She seemed in pretty good spirits through the evening, and even rode in the wagon to-and-from the beach as a group of us took a sunset stroll.

However, she fought being put to bed, and woke about an hour into sleep, in tears.  The crying escalated to a level of hysterics that I have never before seen, and Tom and I tried every trick in the book for the next hour trying to calm her down.  Lights on, lights off.  On the bed beside us, on our chest, in our arms.  Being held, being rocked.  We even brought in the Kindle to let her view some videos.  She had no interest.  We gave her Tylenol, we tried a warm washcloth on her forehead.  We could not stop the hyperventilating and screaming.

Finally, it occurred to me to try reading her a story.  I brought in a book that she just received yesterday from her Aunt Chris, which contains nursery rhymes, recorded in her aunt's voice.  It was a hit, and she finally lay her head down on her father's lap while I turned the pages for her to look on and listen.  I went through the book twice, and when I met resistance upon closing it, I promised Abby one last reading.  Which we did.  Then it was lights out, and in the crib, and the crying began anew, though thankfully it was much more subdued this time.

Tom and I gave her five minutes to let her know definitively that it was time for sleeping.  Then I went in, turned her on her tummy, and rubbed her legs.  I was surprised to hear her sighing with contentment.  Now I wonder if it wasn't her little legs that were the trouble all along.  Perhaps the crazy running, jumping, and dancing that she carried out even in the midst of the stifling heat had left her crampy and sore. 

But I can only guess at the cause, and hope that we don't see a repeat.  I have rarely felt quite so helpless, and was left once again feeling terribly frustrated at the huge barriers that we still face in communication with her.

I have a bunch of new pictures, but it's far later and I am far sleepier than I intended to be when starting this post.  And while I had initially thought that I might just post a couple of videos of Abby's first ocean experience, Blogger keeps giving me an error when I try to upload.  I was finally able to get it to accept this one little clip, which we filmed in the last cool hours of morning, when Abby was still her usual chipper self.  

Here's Abby, doing the "Hokey Pokey/Happy and You Know It" mash-up, followed by a skillfully dramatic exit.  Enjoy.