8.19.2009

The baby is big. No, like, BIG.

Welcome to yet another meandering post from your friendly neighborhood blogger over here. I'll get down to the important bits quickly: Iris had her six-month well baby visit yesterday so we got some updated stats.

Height (length?): 26 inches
Head Circumference: 17 inches
Weight: 18 lbs. 1 oz.

Honestly we're not sure on the ounces because she kept thrashing and kicking on the scale. It vacillated between 18 lbs. 1 oz. and 18 lbs. 5 oz. We just sort of guessed after a few minutes of trying. I don't have the print out with me, so I'm not sure on all the percentiles, but I do know that her weight is near the 90th. I'll get back to you on that one. She didn't get her final (for now) round of vaccinations because apparently there is some kind of shortage going on on the medical world, but I'm having Franzia anyway, as it's become somewhat of a ritual at this point, and I am nothing if not a sucker for tradition.

The doctor verified that there is definitely a tooth present, and its mate is soon to make an appearance (aside to Aunt Pittypat: TOLD you so! ok, ok, just joking. But seriously? One bite from that kid will make you a believer). I tried to get pictures, but the best I could do was a nice shiny view of the underside of her tongue. She consistently covers that freaking tooth with either her tongue or her bottom lip whenever we try to expose it.

I asked the doctor about how to get Iris to sleep better, and she sort of lamed out and explained that everybody likes to cuddle, so I should just try to be nice. Or something. I don't know. I mean, I know it's easy enough to peg me as the giant flaming hippie of the family, but if you met this woman, you'd completely reassess that stance, family or no. I mean, I just wanted someone who would understand our desire to practice attachment parenting, not condone nursing till the kid is 13. I do like her. I think she's a better fit than I ever could have asked for, but I guess you can never find the perfect doctor when it comes right down to it. She's just a little more...ah...hand-holdy than I am.

For example: Yesterday our appointment was at 4pm. We arrived about three minutes late, so I'll consider that on time for the sake of our story. There was one other family in the office, a Mom with two sons, aged eight and eleven, approximately. The older one was sort of wandering around the waiting area, chatting with Kyle and me, making faces at Iris, and intermittently checking on his brother, loudly wondering "what was TAKING so long!" We waited for over thirty minutes for some news of when we would be seen. At some point we heard a scream and some insanely frantic crying, followed by sounds of a struggle. Eight year old scurries out from the back with a huge puffy face, bellowing "I DON'T LIKE SHOTS. I DON'T LIKE THEM." We take this to mean that he was just the recipient of a shot, and wait for our turn. But then this kid goes back to the room and dithers around with Mom, Doc and nursing student in-training person for another ten or fifteen minutes while soothing voices and gentle pleading from the adults mumble out of the room. I can only assume they're gearing up for another shot.

A few minutes later, we're taken back, Iris has her check up, we are again reminded of how beautiful and advanced and perfect she is, as I am sure they tell all parents. The visit ends. As we walk back to the waiting area, we hear, "Okay, let's try again for that shot." As in, that kid NEVER GOT A SHOT. He was that freaked out about the prospect of having to get one. They made us wait for over 40 minutes because that kid is afraid of needles. I'm sorry, but that is the time when you hold that kid down, stab him in the arm and move along. I know that my situation was unusual, but at his age I was getting blood draws on a somewhat frequent basis. I might have cried about it, but I sat there and dealt with it.

I should be more understanding. I know it's scary. But they couldn't just see us first and then deal with little Mr. Whiney Pants later? Maybe it was the Mom's choice to try to cajole some sort of agreement out of him, but it seems to me that a stern enough presence on the side of the medical professional could have gotten the job done in a much more timely fashion.

Ok, rant over. Let's recap: Baby is huge. I now know that whatever modifiers are used to describe my parenting style, "indulgent" will never be one of them, but was anybody really surprised at that?

4 comments:

  1. Baby is human; expected to grow, get much bigger, grow out of clothes, dislike food you give her, hate clothes you pick out for her and ultimately choose to marry the guy of your nightmares. Prepare. Be prepared.

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  2. Babies in the 90th percentile rock!

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  3. So, it really is a tooth! That means she'll probaby be walking next month, be potty-trained at 1 and ready to enter preschool at 2 - just savor each moment. Oh, and maybe just get used to waiting in the doctor's office. I always take a book but then I don't have a baby to entertain me.
    Love
    Aunt Pittypat

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  4. I think it took the doctor 40 minutes of down time to recover from another unpleasant child. Then seeing Iris was like a real uplifting experience, and she was able to tackle the kid and inflict some real misery!! I hate waiting in a doctor's office, that is why I just avoid them. So glad that she is doing so well, can't wait to see her (and you and Kyle). Love, Grandma K

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