oooh, Christopher had that! I'd never heard of it (catchy oysters - presumably because of the pearly balls). I wondered whether he got them from the swimming pool, because I don't know anyone else who had them. Maybe Linnea did too. He didn't like them being needled and squeezed, and he didn't like the surgical spirit going on them afterwards, and he didn't like the plasters that I attempted to cover them up with.
I wish I'd gone to the doctor when the first one appeared. By the time I realised they were (a) odd and (b) not going away, he had a couple of dozen.
That was three years ago. I can see the tiny scars because I know they're there, but they aren't really noticeable.
I'm still waiting for his final chickenpox scar to fade (from last June). I thought at one point that the two of them would have matching scars, but Oliver's faded (being a baby does have its compensations).
I'm wearing an orange fitted tshirt, but the similarities end there. Some long culottes with a flowery ferny pattern on a black background (which have been in *my* possession for 7 or 8 years), a black Regatta fleece, white underwear (BHS and M&S), silk scarf in the same colours as the culottes (hey! the magic is still working!) in my hair, and my lovely gold dolphin earrings which Rob bought me for my first Christmas present.
I have recently started wearing earrings again. At first I left them off because I was constantly carrying a baby, but then I kept thinking that I didn't have time in the mornings and there wasn't any point. Now I make myself choose a pair and put them in (oooh, it takes all of 30 seconds) and guess what - duh - I feel much better for it.
Is that what depressed people do? Not do stuff even though they know, really, that it's what they'd prefer?
pearly kings and queens
I wish I'd gone to the doctor when the first one appeared. By the time I realised they were (a) odd and (b) not going away, he had a couple of dozen.
That was three years ago. I can see the tiny scars because I know they're there, but they aren't really noticeable.
I'm still waiting for his final chickenpox scar to fade (from last June). I thought at one point that the two of them would have matching scars, but Oliver's faded (being a baby does have its compensations).
I'm wearing an orange fitted tshirt, but the similarities end there. Some long culottes with a flowery ferny pattern on a black background (which have been in *my* possession for 7 or 8 years), a black Regatta fleece, white underwear (BHS and M&S), silk scarf in the same colours as the culottes (hey! the magic is still working!) in my hair, and my lovely gold dolphin earrings which Rob bought me for my first Christmas present.
I have recently started wearing earrings again. At first I left them off because I was constantly carrying a baby, but then I kept thinking that I didn't have time in the mornings and there wasn't any point. Now I make myself choose a pair and put them in (oooh, it takes all of 30 seconds) and guess what - duh - I feel much better for it.
Is that what depressed people do? Not do stuff even though they know, really, that it's what they'd prefer?
LBs
Julie paradox