I took Little G to the doctor's office this past Thursday for her 9-month checkup. Just so this milestone doesn't go unremarked upon, here, in no particular order, are the things that I learned at this visit.
1. There is no one in the doctor's office at 12:45 pm on a Thursday. We were literally the only people in the waiting room for almost 10 minutes. This is apparently a regular occurrence. So much so that they had turned out the lights because no one needed them.
2. I am now old enough that it's not just the physician's assistants that look young. The doctors are also starting to look younger than me.
3. LG is 19 lbs, 1 oz, or at the 54th percentile for weight. Up from the 35th percentile at her 6-month checkup.
4. LG is 28 1/4 inches long, or at the 75th percentile for height. This is down from 85th percentile at her 6-month checkup. I contend, however, that the physician's assistant under measured by at least 1/4 inch, so it's likely she's closer to that 85th percentile.
5. LG's head circumference is 44 centimeters, or at the 50th percentile. I don't know why they measure this, and I don't recall the measurement from 6-months, beyond the fact that she's been exactly at 50th percentile since she was born. I also don't know why they take the measurement in centimeters rather than inches. Seems weird to use a different unit of measure for head circumference than length/height. Of note, the physician's assistant doesn't know why either. She had only written "44" in that space on her sheet, and when I asked why she used centimeters, she checked her tape measure to make sure that's what she was using in the first place.
6. LG doesn't even flinch if you give her one shot. She will, however, scream if you prick her finger for a blood test. But this will only last for as long as the doctor is squeezing her finger.
7. When the doctor puts a small Band-aid on your daughter's finger, then tells you to make sure she doesn't put it in her mouth, don't nonchalantly say "I got this" then allow your focus to stray. Because rest assured, your daughter will remove and eat the Band-aid.
8. Crawling is not a milestone, and your doctor doesn't care if your kid can do it. Well, that's not exclusively true. The doctor did ask, but she then told me it doesn't matter. Walking, sure, but crawling, not so much. I don't know why this isn't considered a developmental milestone. And I was so proud she's finally, sort-of, kind-of doing it.
9. Some shots make your kid sleepy. It's the first time this has happened, but Amelia fell asleep on the ride home from the doctor, about 30 minutes early for her nap. And she slept nearly two hours. I did not mind this.
10. When you have the cutest kid in the doctor's office, the front desk nurses aren't shy about telling you. Sweet.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Expected June 19th Post
Well, here we are. It's June 19th, so it falls to me to post. I suppose it's expected of me to commemorate this day, so here goes.
Happy Feast Day of St. Hildegrin!
Wait, what? Not what you were expecting? Okay... well then, how about...
Happy World Sauntering Day! You could walk wherever you go today, but think how much more fun you could be having if you were sauntering.
I'm sorry? It's amazing how loud the imaginary shouts of my audience are in my head right now.
Alright, alright. Happy Father's Day!
This day is traditionally about celebrating your own father, and to that end, I'd like to wish my Dad a Happy Father's Day. I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that my own ideas about being a father are heavily influenced by my Dad, as it should be. Thankfully, he provided a positive influence, so I feel pretty lucky in that regard.
One specific memory of my Dad spring to mind when I think about being a good father. Dad had a Harry Chapin greatest hits double disc set (this one, I think), and as was typical in our house (and most homes, I'd wager), we listened to what Mom or Dad wanted to listen to. (Side note: I'd be willing to bet that I know more songs by '70's folk rock musicians than the average dude born in 1980. Jim Croce, James Taylor, Jackson Brown, and other people who weren't guys whose names start with 'J' were all in solid rotation.)
The song I remember most off that album is "Cat's in the Cradle. This song -- as you may know, since it was Chapin's biggest hit -- is about a dad who never had time for his son, and by song's end finds that his son doesn't have the time for him. Dad would occasionally get emotional when this song played, and he told me numerous times that when he became a father, he thought about this song, and how he never wanted to be in the position of the singer. He would always have time for his kids. And Dad did. He always listened. He always played catch. He always made time for us (my brothers, too) to do things together. Just in case he doesn't hear it enough: Thanks, Dad.
As to my own Father's Day, it's been pretty good so far. The first thing LG got me was a solid night's sleep (three days in a row! Keep it up, little girl!) It just got better from there. She made a water paint coloring page of Gambit from the X-Men, which I'm told started out with a paint brush, but quickly turned into a game of "make your hands wet, then crumple the paper."
Then she gave me an awesome, original masterpiece that looked like it was a heck of a lot of fun to make. It reminds me of another Harry Chapin song, "Flowers are Red," which is about a little boy who likes to paint flowers using every color of the rainbow. I was always a "color inside the lines as neatly as you can" kind of kid, but I see no reason why my daughter should do the same. Her way is more fun.
The finished product:
Hollie got me a gift that should be as much fun for LG as it will be for me. The Art of Roughhousing: Good Old-Fashioned Horseplay and Why Every Kid Needs It. I look forward to tossing my offspring through the air onto a nearby mattress, as noted by a surprising number of illustrations. Should be springy, but not too springy. I don't want her to bounce too far.
Lastly, Hollie took my first six months of blogging (pre-baby) and had it bound into a book. It's awesome, and does a great job of showing how my mental state has changed since I started this little project. Of note, I took just as many long breaks between posts before LG was born as I do now, so I can't blame the baby for my lack of time.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've whiled away LG's entire naptime, and then some, writing this post. It's my day, and I've got some daddying to do.
Happy Feast Day of St. Hildegrin!
Wait, what? Not what you were expecting? Okay... well then, how about...
Happy World Sauntering Day! You could walk wherever you go today, but think how much more fun you could be having if you were sauntering.
I'm sorry? It's amazing how loud the imaginary shouts of my audience are in my head right now.
Alright, alright. Happy Father's Day!
This day is traditionally about celebrating your own father, and to that end, I'd like to wish my Dad a Happy Father's Day. I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that my own ideas about being a father are heavily influenced by my Dad, as it should be. Thankfully, he provided a positive influence, so I feel pretty lucky in that regard.
One specific memory of my Dad spring to mind when I think about being a good father. Dad had a Harry Chapin greatest hits double disc set (this one, I think), and as was typical in our house (and most homes, I'd wager), we listened to what Mom or Dad wanted to listen to. (Side note: I'd be willing to bet that I know more songs by '70's folk rock musicians than the average dude born in 1980. Jim Croce, James Taylor, Jackson Brown, and other people who weren't guys whose names start with 'J' were all in solid rotation.)
The song I remember most off that album is "Cat's in the Cradle. This song -- as you may know, since it was Chapin's biggest hit -- is about a dad who never had time for his son, and by song's end finds that his son doesn't have the time for him. Dad would occasionally get emotional when this song played, and he told me numerous times that when he became a father, he thought about this song, and how he never wanted to be in the position of the singer. He would always have time for his kids. And Dad did. He always listened. He always played catch. He always made time for us (my brothers, too) to do things together. Just in case he doesn't hear it enough: Thanks, Dad.
As to my own Father's Day, it's been pretty good so far. The first thing LG got me was a solid night's sleep (three days in a row! Keep it up, little girl!) It just got better from there. She made a water paint coloring page of Gambit from the X-Men, which I'm told started out with a paint brush, but quickly turned into a game of "make your hands wet, then crumple the paper."Then she gave me an awesome, original masterpiece that looked like it was a heck of a lot of fun to make. It reminds me of another Harry Chapin song, "Flowers are Red," which is about a little boy who likes to paint flowers using every color of the rainbow. I was always a "color inside the lines as neatly as you can" kind of kid, but I see no reason why my daughter should do the same. Her way is more fun.
The finished product:
Hollie got me a gift that should be as much fun for LG as it will be for me. The Art of Roughhousing: Good Old-Fashioned Horseplay and Why Every Kid Needs It. I look forward to tossing my offspring through the air onto a nearby mattress, as noted by a surprising number of illustrations. Should be springy, but not too springy. I don't want her to bounce too far.Lastly, Hollie took my first six months of blogging (pre-baby) and had it bound into a book. It's awesome, and does a great job of showing how my mental state has changed since I started this little project. Of note, I took just as many long breaks between posts before LG was born as I do now, so I can't blame the baby for my lack of time.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've whiled away LG's entire naptime, and then some, writing this post. It's my day, and I've got some daddying to do.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Let it Fly in the Breeze and Get Caught in the Trees
Some of you may recognize the irony of this post, given that I'll be giving a fair amount of coverage to something not currently much in my possession, above the ears anyway. But bear with me. While my personal lack of experience in the last decade or so should be evident, that doesn't mean I don't have anything to say on the subject of hair.
Hair is one of those things, like eye color, ear size, or nose shape, that I spent a lot of time thinking about as Little G was percolating. I mean, yeah, given her parents, her hair would probably be brown, her eyes brown or hazel (jury's still out on that one), her ears big, and her nose... well, I'm not sure what her nose is supposed to look like, but it looks just fine as is.
But would she have a lot of hair? Would it be super fine? Curly? Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen?
The answer, at least initially, was this:
Dark, not terribly thick, but very much there. No bald babies in this house. Pretty typical, actually. (sidebar: you know that joke about how she's got more hair than me? That never gets old. Not even after the 87th person has said it. Yup, always funny... Just keep using it, people.)
But a curious thing happened not long after we brought LG home. Of its own volition, her hair did this:
Her first diaper change after bringing her home, and there it is: the fauxhawk. I would like to reiterate that in this instance, we did not do that on purpose. Apparently, our baby was born with hipster genes.
You might think it was a fluke. I sort of did. But day after day, there it was.
Sometimes smaller, to be sure. And sometimes, it might disappear almost entirely.
But then, the next day, sure enough, we'd get her out of the bassinet, and BOOM! FAUXHAWK!
Now, we have been known to give it a little encouragement. Occasionally, we'll straighten the hawk after bath time.
But most of the time, it needs no help at all.
Little-known fact: you can sneak up on a fauxhawk.
You can also paste it down.
But it will come back. And there's little you can do to stop it.
When you put it that way, it almost seems a little creepy.
If her eyes eventually turn hazel or brown, I'll know where it came from. Her ears are already big, and I know that's from my side of the family. But this fauxhawk? If it's genetic, I'd like to know how many generations it skipped to get here.
Hair is one of those things, like eye color, ear size, or nose shape, that I spent a lot of time thinking about as Little G was percolating. I mean, yeah, given her parents, her hair would probably be brown, her eyes brown or hazel (jury's still out on that one), her ears big, and her nose... well, I'm not sure what her nose is supposed to look like, but it looks just fine as is.
But would she have a lot of hair? Would it be super fine? Curly? Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen?
The answer, at least initially, was this:
Dark, not terribly thick, but very much there. No bald babies in this house. Pretty typical, actually. (sidebar: you know that joke about how she's got more hair than me? That never gets old. Not even after the 87th person has said it. Yup, always funny... Just keep using it, people.)But a curious thing happened not long after we brought LG home. Of its own volition, her hair did this:
Her first diaper change after bringing her home, and there it is: the fauxhawk. I would like to reiterate that in this instance, we did not do that on purpose. Apparently, our baby was born with hipster genes.You might think it was a fluke. I sort of did. But day after day, there it was.
Sometimes smaller, to be sure. And sometimes, it might disappear almost entirely.
But then, the next day, sure enough, we'd get her out of the bassinet, and BOOM! FAUXHAWK!
Now, we have been known to give it a little encouragement. Occasionally, we'll straighten the hawk after bath time.
But most of the time, it needs no help at all.
Little-known fact: you can sneak up on a fauxhawk.
You can also paste it down.
But it will come back. And there's little you can do to stop it.
When you put it that way, it almost seems a little creepy.If her eyes eventually turn hazel or brown, I'll know where it came from. Her ears are already big, and I know that's from my side of the family. But this fauxhawk? If it's genetic, I'd like to know how many generations it skipped to get here.
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