Doctor’s Orders

Today Kate and I took Paige for her three-month well-baby appointment. Aside from her weighing 14 pounds and 7 ounces–putting her in the 90th percentile for baby weight–the biggest take-away was Dan’s directive for us to focus on Paige’s “skin management.”

Well won’t my cleaning lady be happy.

We got some tips on wrangling the cradle cap. No mention about the acne, actually. Then Dan mentioned that I should cut down on my milk intake. (Okay, so he might have said cut “out” the milk.)

Evidently my drinking milk is triggering the light rash on Paigey’s arms and shoulders. I can’t remember how he described the exact effect it has. He also said something about eczema–either that it is eczema now, or maybe that it could develop into it. I was a bit stunned and preoccupied. Cutting off my milk supply he might as well have asked me to disconnect an artery.

Mind you, I’m hardly the type to pour myself a tall glass of cold milk. That kinda grosses me out actually. But decaf lattes, cocoa with mini-marshmallows, and Dove Bars make up my primary food groups. If it weren’t for the fact that my Midwestern husband cooks a well-balanced dinner for us every night, I’d likely subsist on this holy trinity. They’re convenient comfort foods that also fill me up when I don’t have time to make something more substantial. And thus far at least, there’s no evidence of pitted fingernails, hair loss, or dementia to indicate I have scurvy or any other form of malnutrition.

In case for some reason the milk in my lattes wouldn’t count as “milk” per se, I needed to double-check on this directive with the good doctor.

Me: “So, no milk, as in, no lattes?”

He: (casually, as if he’s not dropping a bomb on me) “Yep!”

Ah well, I guess from now on out I’ll be getting my daily dose of comfort from admiring Paigey’s sweet skin.