Well, that was a short respite. Just two days ago, I shared my theory that motherhood is a marathon of hurdles. I was basking in the glow of a baby who slept 12 hours at night and took three long naps all by herself. Life was good. Then she got a runny nose. I took her to the doctor, thinking that she just had allergies, like her mama. But no.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with her," said Dr. Freeman. "She's got tonsillitis."

"Tonsillitis? Seriously?" I asked.

"Seriously," said Dr. Freeman. "Her tonsils are red, swollen and covered with puss."

"But she's not acting like her throat hurts. She only coughs when she tries to swallow the snot that's running all over her face," I responded.

"It's tonsillitis," said Dr. Freeman.

Dear friends. Just so you know. Tonsillitis on an almost-7-month-old baby isn't fun. If she wasn't acting like she was in pain earlier, she's definitely acting like it now. Last night, we spent the night in the chair, after repeated attempts to lay her down in the crib. When her head hit the bed, she shrieked in agony {at least that's how I interpreted the shrieks}. Needless to say, I called for backup. My mama {aka Nana} is here, and she has taken over rocking responsibilities for now.

Tonsillitis. I never would have guessed.

Hello hurdle. I'm not really pleased to meet you. Please go away soon.

Thanks.