I am posting just so we can all move on and talk about something besides the dress. (From BCBG.) (Ta da!) I am very tired of talking about the dress.
This happens to me a lot -- I post something, anything, whatever stream-of-consciousness claptrap that occurs to me, without really thinking it through and within 15 minutes of go-live time, I'm sick of it. So I'm all, "Okay! Shut up now!" But the Internet does not WANT to shut up, and why should it, because hell, I started it.
I need a little pre-post checklist, I think.
Do I really want to think about this topic over and over when I monitor comments?
Do I really want to read what a hundred other people think about this topic?
And then what another hundred people think about what the first hundred people think?
Am I, in fact, writing a check my body can't cash?
And another good question in life: Is it really a good idea to stay up until 1:30 am the night before an 8:30 am pediatrician appointment, and WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK was I thinking ordering a nine-course tasting menu with the wine pairing, which: NINE. NIIIINE.
I am on about three hours of sleep, and have approximately 13 more hours of hangover to go.
I also have no clever transition to Noah's four-month appointment stats, so...
Do-it-yourself Amalah: Insert your own witty segue here!
Noah weighs 15 pounds and is (wait for it) 27.5 inches long.
TWENTY. SEVEN. AND A HALF!
If you're anything like me, you will see that number and shrug, because...well, it's inches, and inches are small.
And then the doctor will show up and make the nurse RE-MEASURE because "that can't be right," which is exactly what my OB said when he saw 9 pounds, 15 ounces on the delivery room scale.
So there's this growth curve chart, and...I don't know, it curves, and they plot your baby's growth on it, and then they talk about percentiles and stuff. Noah is smack dab in the 50th percentile for weight and head circumfrence, and way, WAY off the curve for height, and will probably be seven feet tall in preschool.
There is no growth curve chart for foot size, and you know that I totally asked, because his feet are enormous and I am so proud of their enormity.
My pediatrician also ordered me not to tell other mothers about Noah's sleeping habits.
*smiles smugly and annoyingly, yet does not say a word*
I also returned my rented hospital-grade breast pump. I prefer the Avent Isis manual pump and never saw a bit of difference in what I could pump between the two, except that the Avent pumps faster and is way, WAY easier to carry around and deal with, plus I can pump with one hand while cutting lines of cocaine with the other. The entire world disagrees with me on this, and I'm not talking about the cocaine part. You are fine with the cocaine, but the fact that I am not using a $300 Pump In Style shocks you to your very CORE.
AND, since I enjoy the drama of a good motherhood hissyfit, I present to y'all this article, sent to me by alert reader Kathleen. Which I discussed with the doctor, and he wholeheartedly agrees with it and thinks that rice cereal, applesauce and bananas are about the WORST foods you can start a baby on, because they digest too quickly and can cause constipation.
(He's known in the practice as Dr. Poop, because he thinks the whole "it's okay if your baby only poops once a day or every other day" theory is a crock of well, shit, and that we're just breeding an army of chronically constipated kids, but he admits that he's alone in his belief that all babies, regardless of age, should be pooping several times a day and we shouldn't put up with the BIG HUGE BLOW OUT AND BEYOND THE DIAPER POOPS. He's...kind of crazy about the poop, but I love him.)
Anyway. He wants Noah eating more solids, since the kid clearly is growing like a damn weed, nursing and chugging bottles like they are going out of style, and came out of the womb about a month ahead developmentally. (My uterus grows babies in dog years, apparently.)
His words: "You feed this baby whatever the hell you want to feed this baby. You aren't going to hurt him with FOOD."
(We have no family history of food allergies, however, so it's obviously a different story for anyone who does.)
So we're ditching the rice cereal for barley, adding prunes and yellow vegetables, and getting out the Cuisinart to puree up anything else we feel like giving him. And yes, we're adding some damn spices, because if you had seen the look on Noah's face when I snuck him a couple tastes of grown-up polenta (gasp!) with garlic and herbs, you'd understand that the Noah, he loves the flavah.
Now. Everybody yell at everybody else about all the horrible things that will happen now. And I promise to not get sick of this topic for at least 10 minutes.
OMG! His face is totally going to get stuck like that! I blame the yams!