Poor Mr. December. Every night he asks me to garden with him, just for a little bit. And every night I’m too tired, or my head hurts, or I’m having crazy round ligament pain. And so the plants that I bought a while back become more and more root-bound, and my longed-for rock garden (to replace the lawn which we hate caring for) is still a dream. Oh, and I still have a headache.
In other news, N has dropped drastically on the growth curve (he used to be on the 25th percentile, now he’s below the 5th) and this is the second month that the doctor has “given” him to fatten up before she starts some other investigations or referrals or diagnostic stuff or whatever it is doctors do when they decide your baby is too small. For the record, he’s developmentally on track, babbling and cruising, eating, laughing… you get the idea. He’s a healthy, active boy. Nevertheless, the words “failure to thrive” got thrown around a bit and then dismissed… temporarily.
We’re doing all the things parents do to fatten their kid up. We feed him full-fat yogurt and avocados, I make his oatmeal and mashed potatoes with heavy cream, and we’ve even taken to adding an extra scoop of formula when we mix up a bottle for him (my hatred of formula is a topic for another day, but if I haven’t mentioned it yet my milk supply disappeared early on in my pregnancy.) Still, he’ll eat what he wants and not a drop more. What’s a mom to do?
Folks, it’s too hot to blog, so I’ll end here. WIP Wednesday is tomorrow – are you ready to join me?