So, remember how I was all upset about my baby potentially being labelled failure to thrive? And how we were going to Cleveland this week to look into getting a helmet?
Charlotte had her 9 month well-check last week and the pediatrician was all “oh hey, jk lol, she’s doing great.”
Seriously. He caught her on the wrong end of a growth spurt last time. Her head magically started to round out some on it’s own (it will probably be somewhat flat, but it has to be severe for her to qualify for a helmet). She’s almost 14 pounds, which is in the average range for a 5-6 month old (her adjusted age is 7 months, but let’s all remember that she was born early because she stopped growing after 25 weeks in utero).
Oh yeah, and as someone pointed out, I’m only 5’5″, which still makes me one of the taller women in my family.
That being said, I have turned into that mom that just doesn’t worry about stuff. I let my kid eat whatever she wants (I did put my foot down when she tried to chew on the bottom of my shoe). If the pacifier falls face up, it goes right back in the mouth hole. Immune boost for the win!
I’ve also gotten incredibly lax on what we feed the kid. As long as it is high in calories, she can have it. She hates being spoon fed, so finger food is a must, but there is no such thing as a high calorie baby puff. The good news is that her reflux is significantly improved and she seems to be outgrowing her dairy issues, especially since finger foods stay down so much better. Last night I ordered her a kids meal at a restaurant for the first time. She got a quesadilla with Mexican rice and ate a few tortilla chips (no salsa). Besides the absolutely horrific poop, it was a hit.
For the record, I am not eating Mexican the night before a 5:30 AM run ever again. My body was made of lead today. I’m sure the 21 degree temperature and numb toes didn’t help, but either way, it was brutal. I’ve decided it’s time for another dietary overhaul, but that certainly demands its own post. Charlotte also wants a dietary overhaul as she’s now refusing to eat anything besides puffs, yogurt melts (I swear I used to feed those to my hamster), and grilled cheese.
Anyways, I’m home in my own warm bed not worrying about a baby (hopefully) sleeping in a portacrib next to me. A healthy, albeit a little small, baby who sleeps like a champ in her own room. Life is good when you stop worrying about every microbe and moron who comments on how small your baby is.