I'm really tired. Really, really, tired.

It's been a day of running around. Work (I walked, the weather is absolutely beautiful right now), liasing with estate agents, and, late this afternoon, a doctor's appointment for Sophie, whose spots have not turned into chicken-pox but whose ear is suddenly intensely painful.

The doctor wasn't one we'd seen before. Very sweet, but very young. I strongly suspect he's only got the medical equivalent of a learner's licence. I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone while we were in his office, and voiced my concerns about Sophie's recent lack of growth. I don't think she's grown much since we arrived here in the UK. Her feet are still the same size, and she hasn't outgrown any of her clothes in months, so I want a formal record of her growth in case there turns out to be a problem down the line. The doctor was nice about my concerns, didn't seem to think I was being neurotic, and agreed that we should definitely be tracking her growth ... only, his room didn't have a height measuring device and (even though he disappeared off for ages) he couldn't find one anywhere in the practice. So he weighed her, and she still weighs the same as she did last September. He wanted us to make an appointment with the nurse to have her measured at a later date, but when the nurse at the front desk found that out she shook her head and said she was sure she could find a way to measure Soph for us then and there. Which she did. So now we have measurements, which is good. Soph is probably just fine, but I am glad that we will have "official" documentation of her growth just in case.

And we have antibiotic ear drops for the poor sore ear.

In other medical news, Emily is having her pituitary MRI tomorrow at the hospital. Pretty much a routine thing, they are not expecting to find anything sinister. Touch wood. Bobby is taking her to have it done. He really wanted to be the one to go this time, and, since I went last time, it would have been selfish of me to insist that I be the one to go. However - even though Ems is quite happy to go with Bobs - I feel rather miserable; I absolutely hate the thought of not being there with her during this. Not being there goes against all my maternal protective instincts - instincts which don't seem to get any less strong as my children get older.