Put what on her face?
So Baby's been having issues with her skin--her cheeks in particular, but also her forehead & scalp to a lesser extent, have been red and dry and itchy. To make things worse, during her sleep it was obviously bothering her because we'd find little scratches all over her head (you'd be surprised how sharp a baby's nails can be). You can see a bit of it here; her other cheek has actually been worse:
So anyway, she had a check-up recently and her pediatrician prescribed a mild steroid cream for her cheeks--which, sadly, makes her ineligible for the Olympics in Beijing in 2008--and later added antihistamines to the mix (NOTE: I know some people are not very happy with babies and drugs, and we totally understand--but if it makes her feel better and not claw her face up, well, I guess we're willing to be bad parents as far as that goes). By the way, this is where I get to feel guilty. Gretchen did some research and discovered it's likely eczema, which babies tend to get when they have a parent who suffers from allergies. Let's just say that when my allergist did a skin test on me I literally came up allergic to 27 out of 30 irritants, and that two of the loud sounds she is most accustomed to are my (1) sneezing and (2) blowing my nose. Consider it papa's little gift to you, sweetheart.
While I wasn't there, my understanding is that she and the doctor then had a conversation that went something like this:
DOCTOR: So you use the steroid cream for six days, then switch to fat cream.
GRETCHEN: Excuse me, what?
DOCTOR: Fat cream.
GRETCHEN: What is fat cream?
DOCTOR: Here, I'll give you some.
Sure enough, it's actually called Fettcreme, which indeed translates to "fat cream". I'm sorry, but while I'm sure it's very effective, this doesn't seem like the wisest marketing strategy of all time. Maybe it's just my inner American speaking, but applying "fat cream" makes me feel like we're rubbing Crisco or lard onto her face...
So anyway, she had a check-up recently and her pediatrician prescribed a mild steroid cream for her cheeks--which, sadly, makes her ineligible for the Olympics in Beijing in 2008--and later added antihistamines to the mix (NOTE: I know some people are not very happy with babies and drugs, and we totally understand--but if it makes her feel better and not claw her face up, well, I guess we're willing to be bad parents as far as that goes). By the way, this is where I get to feel guilty. Gretchen did some research and discovered it's likely eczema, which babies tend to get when they have a parent who suffers from allergies. Let's just say that when my allergist did a skin test on me I literally came up allergic to 27 out of 30 irritants, and that two of the loud sounds she is most accustomed to are my (1) sneezing and (2) blowing my nose. Consider it papa's little gift to you, sweetheart.
While I wasn't there, my understanding is that she and the doctor then had a conversation that went something like this:
DOCTOR: So you use the steroid cream for six days, then switch to fat cream.
GRETCHEN: Excuse me, what?
DOCTOR: Fat cream.
GRETCHEN: What is fat cream?
DOCTOR: Here, I'll give you some.
Sure enough, it's actually called Fettcreme, which indeed translates to "fat cream". I'm sorry, but while I'm sure it's very effective, this doesn't seem like the wisest marketing strategy of all time. Maybe it's just my inner American speaking, but applying "fat cream" makes me feel like we're rubbing Crisco or lard onto her face...
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