Ch-ch-check out the Check Up.

March 10, 2009 at 11:56 am | Posted in Baby Weight (Evan), Love and all that other mushy stuff | Leave a comment

Welp, it’s been 6 months since I was sliced open and Evan took his first-ever breath.  He’s a HALF YEAR OLD, y’all.  That’s like 11 in Mom Years.  I spent the day in bed desperate to take a nap.  Leavemealone.  A nap.  I wanna nap, just 10 minutes… get out!  That allusive nap never came, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t spend all day trying to get it.  Evan seemed unfazed by his Halfirthday and didn’t even miss having half a cake.  Or whatever you’re supposed to do on this day when you’re a kick-ass mommy. 

Yesterday, we took Evan to his 6 month well visit.  I brought pennies… but there was no well.  What a crock.

Still oblivious to the impending shots.

He’s got curvey-goodness.  Meaning that his weight and height growth are improving the way they should.  He is now weighing in at 17lbs, 14oz.  A full 13lbs chunkier than when he came out.  Without factoring in his preemie status, he is in the 40% for his height and weight.  Howevah, he is in the 70% for his HEAD SIZE!  Lookit that noggin:

Noggin!

He is now officially off his preemie formula, NeoSure.  We are a Similac Advanced household now.  This is so awesome because we have a pantry full of the liquid form of this stuff.  When Evan and I came home from the hospital, I asked Wayne if he got the formula.  (It went a little like this: Yup, I got a whole case of it.  Really, a case? Wait, why didn’t you get the powder kind?  There’s a powder?)  A few days later, Evan’s doctor put him back on the preemie formula.  We’re gonna open those bad boys up like they’re baby champagne!

Later, Wayne and I lovingly held him down as the nurse shot him twice and squeezed some sort of elixir in his mouth that, I can only assume, was to promote additional drooling.  I was at his head, so I got all the screamy unbelieving looks of disgust from him.  Wayne was at his feet and scooped him up as soon as the nurse was done and shushed him and was all, “Ohhh, what did Mommy do to you?  What a mean Mommy.”  And sure enough, Evan was looking over Wayne’s shoulder at me whining and blubbering and wishing he knew how to speak because he would totally use his first curse word at me.

My boy’s no idiot and knows how to “put things in his pocket” so he can get you back later.  At 3:02am this morning, I hear a little whine coming from his bassinet.  I swear I could hear him chuckle between those whines.  I have to wake up to go to work in a couple hours, so I walk downstairs to Wayne to ask him to take care of Evan because he didn’t have to get up for work.  I think I was polite about it, I can’t be sure (or bothered with such details):

A: Waaaaaaaaynnne.  Eaaaaaaaaavan s’awake.  I gottago ta work soooon.

W: Ehhhhhhhh.  I just started sleeping.  You do this bottle… zzzzz… I’ll do the one in the morning.  Snore.

A: (Possibly add a curse word directed at Wayne here) Of course you’re feeding him in mooooornin’… I’ll be at wooork.  Bark, Bark.

W: *sigh/whine/bitch/grumble*

About 30 minutes later, (and I know because I still couldn’t get to sleep because I was pissed!  My damned sleeping pill wore off!  I was thinking up the yell-y monologue I would be screaming at Wayne later I was thinking of all the stuff I needed to do at work the next day), Wayne came in the bedroom.

W: Sweetie, I’m sorry to wake you, but I think Evan’s running a fever.

A:  (!!!) That’s OK, Dear.  (To Evan) Are you OK, Booger Boy?  (I really need to stop calling him that)

W: (After he took his temp)  It’s 99.8.  I’m going to take him downstairs so you can get some more rest.

A: Thanks Baby, please let me know if anything happens.

Wayne leaves and quietly shuts the door.  We get all lovey and together-y and stuff when there is a concern.  Awwww… I know, right?

I would tell you Evan’s current status, but if I wake either from a nap, I’m toast.  OMFG he’s calling now.  Really, no shit.  I just got off the phone.  He seems right as rain.  All is peachy with the world.

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