Poppy had a difficult five-month birthday. She’s extremely congested (we think it might be the croup), and she’s having a hard time sleeping.

I didn’t realize until I’d dressed her that she wore the same thing in her four-month pictures. I was going to change her outfit and try it again, but she felt so rotten I didn’t want to bother her that much. She really has changed since Dec. 15, I promise.

When I took the pictures, she was watching the Colts game with Rockford. Obviously, she was right to look so concerned.

Poppy’s working on sitting up now, and we thought she might like an “exersaucer.” And she does, indeed, like it. Not a very interesting story, I know, but it’s a cute picture.

I made some bacon this morning on the George Foreman — healthy and delicious. And I didn’t even burn my foot in the process.

Our recent turmoil drummed up some “air ambulance” ads from google. Sort of funny, and yet … not funny at all.

Rockford is feeling better, and I’d say I’m at about 80 percent. But Poppy is still throwing up — not every time she eats or even every other time. Randomly, about once a day, she’s been tossing back an entire feeding. She doesn’t seem to have a stomachache (she smiles before and after), but it still tears at my heart every time. There seems to be a lot of feeling helpless (and worry and heartache and gnashing of teeth) involved in this parenting thing. For me, anyway.