If Women in the Amazon Can Do It…

Filed Under: Life

bathtub-in-febToday was Oliver’s “four month” check-up.  He attained the rank of five months on the 12th but due to insurance issues, we had to reschedule him to today.

Cara was super excited about getting the chance to see her pediatrician…even though Cara screams every time she sees said pediatrician.  What can I say?  Two year olds are weird.

Cara took her “Hello Kitty doll” with her and said doll is missing all of the stuffing out of one of the feet since SOMEONE [Cara] destuffed the foot.  The staff at the office stuffed the foot with cotton balls and then wrapped it with gauze and gave Hello Kitty a Band-Aid.  Cara was a very happy camper.

Oliver was his usual jovial self and was laughing at all of the staff.  His medical history was taken and we were asked if he is rolling and whether or not he’s sitting unassisted yet.  Ollie’s been rolling since Dec. 27th [I remember that date only because that’s the day my mom gave Ollie a play mat and he proceeded to roll over to get a toy.] and he really isn’t too interested in the whole sitting thing.

I have pictures of his sister sitting at 3 months old and watching TV but Oliver is more interested in crawling around after the cat.  Why sit when you can move?  Glad he isn’t like his mom when it comes to the whole sitting vs. moving thing.

His pediatrician seemed really concerned by the fact that Oliver isn’t sitting until she watched him try to crawl off of the examination table.  She shook her head, gave me an “I feel sorry for you” look and then commented that maybe we just shouldn’t worry about the sitting thing right now.

As far as the “sitting thing” goes, I sit him up.  I position his legs so that he can balance himself and the whole time he pushes against my hand.  It doesn’t matter if I have my hand in the middle of his back or down around his hips; he’s more concerned with getting off of his ass and going after something much more interesting than me.

Oliver was weighed and measured and my five month old is in the 80 somethinth percentile for everything.  Damn kid is 27 inches long and just a hair shy of 19 pounds.  The nurse kept asking me about how often he takes a bottle and when I told her that he’s exclusively breastfed then she asked me how often he nurses.

Me:  “Um…I don’t know.”

Her:  “Six times a day?  Eight times a day?  More than eight times a day?”

Me:  “I really don’t know.  I just feed on-demand.  I’m assuming more than eight times a day.”

Her:  “Oh.  So it’s just whenever he wants?  You don’t have a schedule?”

Me:  “Um…no…I feed him when he’s hungry.”

I know that I’m not the only one who does things this way.  Feeding on-demand is the way that the majority of the world does this whole breastfeeding thing.  How exactly would a mom in the Amazon be able to tell that three hours had passed if she’s lacking electricity and the ability to tell time?

Oh, whatever.


They seemed to completely not understand the whole “feeding on demand” thing and seemed incampable of grasping the idea that I don’t supplement with formula or juice or water or cereal or motor oil or…well, you get the point.

His pediatrician was much more understanding and seemed impressed by the fact that Ollie is Ollie due to simple boob juice.  Cause you know, genetics didn’t have anything to do with it.  😉

Anyway, while Cara and Tucker were out in the hallway, Ollie got his two shots-no hepB since he’s not engaging in any risky sex and no RotaVirus since he’s not in daycare-and got over the shock of his chubby little thighs being punctured in record time.

Bath time was had by all kids and Ollie was dosed with his antibiotic and Motrin and while Cara is sound asleep, Oliver is still chasing the damn cat.

Gotta love a trip to the pediatrician to hipe a kid up.