Jack Sprat Could Eat No Fat

We moms are crazy excited about growth percentiles.  I don't know what it is.  We all tell each other it doesn't matter.  The doctor tells us is doesn't matter, that they really only looking for healthy patterns, etc.  But heaven forbid we leave a doctor's appointment without finding out what the height and weight percentile is.    I especially look forward to Robbie's appointments, because he's so fat and sassy.   When Jamie was a baby, all we ever got was complicated, depressing information.

I made Robbie a doctor's appointment last Friday, because he was having trouble getting over a cold, and had relapsed with a fever.   I just wanted to take him in and get his ears and lungs checked,  so I was a bit surprised when they launched right into his 7 month, well-baby check up.   My luck with good appointments ran out, and our skinny genes struck again.   Robbie dropped from the 65th percentile for weight, to the 10th percentile for weight, which sort of concerns pediatricians in general.   Doctors want to make sure you aren't...you know...feeding your baby slim fast and diet coke.   Personally, I opt to feed my baby something worse.  Homemade baby food.  Nasty stuff made from things like parsnips and sweet potatoes.   The horrors.   But seriously, they were upset about the homemade babyfood.  Said it wasn't fortified with iron.  Ah, I told them, but I do fortify my babyfood with iron.  I cook his veggies in beef  bone broth, and puree spinach into his applesauce.    Nope, not good enough.  If it ain't in a box or jar, sitting on a grocery shelf for at least three months, then it ain't good enough for a baby.   Real food is dangerous stuff.  Best to stay away from it.

We compromised with testing his iron levels....which were not just normal, but fantastic.  So take that.  Score one for mommy.   Really, it's my dad's fault... and maybe Jim's brother Jordan... we have some skinny DNA in our family.  It's on both sides of the family.  I can't fight genetics no matter how much coconut oil I sneak into my kids food. It's not my fault.  I do feed my children a lot!   So the stats are (in case I'm looking for them later...someone remind me they're on my blog):  At seven months Robbie is 28.5 inches long and 16lbs 11 oz.   He is one long little dude with a small head and chubby thighs.  (I don't care what the doctor says, this kid does have chub).

I lost the next round.  I was trying to delay Robbie's vaccinations, but got a little freaked out when they got mad at me for endangering every child in the waiting room.  Between that, and the CPS paperwork they said they had to fill out (standard procedure),  I handed over my baby going "take him, just please do whatever you need to do."   I'm not militantly anti-vaccine...I just wanted to wait until he wasn't so little, but apparently that is a cardinal sin at this practice.  Thankfully the whole experience was more traumatic for me than it was for Robbie. 

It has not been the best week in the Ramsey household.  We lost some chickens last night to a bobcat.  Jamie's favorite pet chicken Heather, was one of the victims. Jamie made the discovery early this morning, and somewhere in the onslaught of pure Jamie emotion, my sleep addled brain turned on my phone to record him.   I know I shouldn't laugh at him, because honestly, I was pretty upset about it too, but this is a good example of how life is with him all the time.   The highs are high, and the lows are low. 

 

He's playing baseball this season.  Tryouts were on Saturday, and he was so excited.  Can't wait until the season starts.