Diva’s two month checkup was this morning. What fun that was. Sitting in the waiting room for an hour and a half, trying to keep a screaming little diva calm.
One minute, I think I finally have this child figured out. I think at last I know just what to do to calm her down when nobody else can. Yeah, and then she has a complete meltdown before we ever left the house this morning. I mentioned this to her pediatrician today, he has basically classified her as a high-needs baby. Oh, like I didn’t already know that!
Anyway, she’s officially a chunk. She now weighs 13 pounds, and 1 ounce, and she’s 22 1/4 inches tall. This is 50th percentile in height, 95th in weight. He read that off to me, turned a page in her chart, then went back to the growth chart and actually said, “Wow”. Like it didn’t quite register with him the first time he read it. I’m aware, doc, she’s short and fat. Her brother was too…look at him now; I’m not worried.
And then came the dreaded shots. The nurse popped the first one in, had put the needle in the sharps box, and was working on the second shot when she started screaming, a very delayed reaction. It was like she might could have handled just one shot, but oh no, here’s a second. OMG, that’s #3! Holy Cow, this lady just popped the 4th needle into my leg! Oh horror of horrors, my mommy is just letting her do it! WAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
(of course, you realize it was so very much more than just a wah, right? I’m talking ear splitting painful screeching that could be heard in three counties.)
But the good news: apparently, getting shots makes her sleep…a lot. She’s waking up just long enough to slurp down a bottle and then she’s out again.