Just some doctor stuff

Today was Baby Girl's two month well check and H's three year well check. Baby Girl is now 11 pounds 8 ounces and 23 inches. H is 42 pounds and 40.5 inches. She is in the 50th percentile for weight and the 60th for height. He is in the 97th for height and the 98th for weight.

Okay, now that the stats have been properly (pseudo properly) recorded...

I am one of those mothers that firmly believes that we over vaccinate children here in the States. I am one of those mothers that also believes there is a link between vaccines and autism. My husband was raised in a third world country and contracted malaria twice, hepatitis once, and goodness knows what else. He lost two of his siblings at very early ages to illness. He has a niece and a nephew that are both permanently disabled because of childhood illness. He firmly believes in vaccination. So, we compromised. We decided to start our children on a scaled down vaccination schedule at age one.

H was born and we were in agreement that we would start vaccinating him after his first birthday. Then the months progressed and it was clear to us that there was something different about him. My family/friends/doctor were leaning towards autism as the answer to why he was different. They scared me. They scared us, and so it was decided that we would wait until H was three to start his vaccines. He received his first two today, which leaves him with two more that he will need this year and one that he will need next year.

I wanted a doctor that I had faith in, one that also had faith in my child. I wanted a doctor who believed that I as a mother had some credibility even though there isn't an MD after my name. I found one. We waited (and waited, waited, waited) for an opening in their practice. Finally when Baby Girl was born we were able to slip in because they started accepting newborns and their siblings. I had been eagerly anticipating the well check appointments we had today.

The doctor is convinced that H, based on meeting him, reviewing his records, and talking to me, is NOT autistic at all. She is confident in her diagnosis based on his exemplary communication skills. However, he shares many problems commonly found in children with autism. She notes that as being a curious kind of coincidence. We are now going to embark on a path to try and make H (and me) happier. She will treat him for yeast infection because he has problems with excess levels which is theorized to contribute to some of his behavioural issues. We will also start eliminating foods from his diet (like dairy, ugh) and see if he needs to be tested for food allergies. There are a million other little things that I am too tired to get into right now. I am putting all my eggs in our new doctor's basket. I sure hope that I am doing it because it is the right thing to do and NOT because she is telling me what I want to hear.

Having unburdened myself of this weight, I am going to bed. H fell asleep while I was typing. He is snoring on the Thomas table and I am contemplating replacing the Cranky the Crane under his head with a pillow and removing the rest of the trains and track so I can cover him up and leave him there. Hey, he is 42 pounds after all.

OCD does not become me

What happened to me? Seriously, I need to know. I have always been an OCD class organizer. Mess? Not a problem. Dirt? Really didn't see it. Heaven forbid I find a lego in the cars box though! I can clean. I can even clean well. The only problem is that I detest it. So...I try to wrangle as much help from the troops in that department as I can. The help from the troops, in addition to supplementing those troops, has led to complete and utter chaos.

The chaos has led to a total breakdown of my genetic code. I have always been programmed to organize the heck out of everything and put everything in the designated spot, all the while ignoring the muddy paw prints decorating every square inch of my living room. Lately though, I can see the paw prints, but, I can't even begin to fathom where anything actually belongs. Ugh! I am like an amputee trying to learn to walk again, painfully struggling to regain what I've lost.

The problem is compounded because I am unable to move on to the next task until the first is completed to my satisfaction. Unfortunately, I am like a bird, throw something shiny and I forget what I was on about to begin with. For example, I need to do laundry. I am very behind in our washing, but, I can't actually make myself load the washer until the laundry room is organized the way it should be. So, in my attempt to do a load of laundry (or five) I've spent two days organizing my laundry room, which still isn't completed...so I haven't done (any) laundry.

This goes for unloading the dishwasher too because I have to sort through all the silverware that my husband mixed patterns in their drawers and all the dishes which are now thrown pell mell into the cupboard with little to no regard for the good, the bad, and the ugly. Mind you, I can't even start on the dishes or silverware until I've cleaned off the counters and put the photos that I got in the mail into their correct albums and rotated and fronted the pantry and fridge so that my children can clearly read the labels and that they are opening the oldest products first.

Think I'm crazy yet? Well, I am. This particularly peculiar brand of OCD that I exhibit is actually kind of a good thing though. One of those things that I need to regain hold of and once again make work for me instead of against me. Unfortunately in my current lock down mode I can't seem to figure out how to open the circuit and stop going in circles. I need to get a grip, and soon. Otherwise, things like having to sterilize baby bottles because she is drinking out of her last clean one will make me stark raving bananas.

Can you 'come down' with ADD at this point in life? Maybe that's my problem. Probably I won't give this too much more thought tonight because I noticed that the kids mixed the regular Uno cards with the Cars Uno cards, and, sadly instead of doing laundry, I will sit here and separate the decks...before I can finish the laundry room, or even go to sleep.

Hey Mom!

LB: Hey Mom, if JB ever gets kidnapped, can I have her bed?

Can you feel that brotherly love? The unwritten commandment is, "thou shalt not covet your sibling's bed," you all have heard of that one, right?

There is no such thing

...as a stupid question.

I don't know who coined this phrase, but, I do know that they should have to spend some time answering the questions my husband and oldest child ask.

For example...

Hubby: Where exactly in the pantry did you say the BBQ sauce is? *asking from the refrigerator*

Chocolate, rant, hamsters, and strip teases

H: Mommy, I wanna go to the health food store and get a 'shock-lit' please? The apple store, hunh-kay?

I am ashamed that my three year old equates the freaking health food store with chocolate, I am alternately amused that he calls it the 'apple store' as their logo incorporates a small red apple.

In other news, I hate summer camp. I hate getting up at oh-gosh-darn-dark-mother-flipping-thirty. I hate the small fortune in gas that I have squandered away on this venture. I hate that my oldest son won't even go without a fight, I hate that I hate it all. These last two weeks have been awful. Without the big kids around, I can't do anything. The only store I can go to is Costco because their shopping carts are awesome two seaters with the over sized basket that fits BG's carrier and my groceries. Otherwise, I find that I am lacking the ability to push a cart, pull another, and toe a third for groceries. If you are wondering, I have indeed tried this. This week was better, I drove the children and dropped them off at a more convenient time...as in when we woke up and got dressed, but, my grandmother in her attempt to help my kids have fun this summer will be picking them up next week...at the a** crack of dawn. Frankly, it makes me feel a tad suicidal.

H had his first day of drop off Gymbo summer camp. The manager and I compromised on him being allowed to attend although he isn't potty trained as long as I stay at the mall so that I can swoop by and change him if necessary. This is a small concession on my part, because honestly as hot as it is, as hard as it is to wrestle with three car seats, a double stroller, and a baby sling, I would probably have chosen to just hang out at the mall anyway. H walked right in, closed the door behind him and didn't give me a second thought until it was time to leave. He asks me roughly every five minutes when his next class is because, "my teacher needs me Mommy!"

Tomorrow we are heading off early to see G-Force. I've never seen a movie in 3-D (okay...modern 3-D) so I'm hoping it will be as cool as my kids promise and as cute as the ads look. At any rate, I'm hoping I'll like it better than HP-6.

My H took his diaper off after dinner and we were treated to a dancing three year old twirling a diaper on his finger...makes me wonder what Daddy is letting them watch on television when I'm away. Although if that killer left arm he has doesn't work out to be an NFL career...maybe he can be a Chippendale???

One little man strikes gold

I took H to the mall on Sunday. His reward for being good and walking with his monkey on his back (read he was wearing his kiddie leash) was a ride on our mall's new train. This miniature train is awesome. For three dollars you get a ten minute train ride all around the first floor of our indoor mall. The train is still very new however, and it attracts lots of attention from unassuming customers who aren't expecting it.

So...we're on the train, in center court, shoppers staring at us, people waving...very much on display and H sticks his finger up his little nose, quick withdrawal, then promptly puts his little treasure in his mouth. In front of roughly 100 staring spectators. Hey guys...who wants to ride in the blue car now?

This may just qualify as the ickiest, most embarrassing moment of my life thus far.

Two months old today

BB holding the big two month old girl today!



Baby Girl looking at the camera...sort of.



A smile...but, not for Mom.



Our serious look.



I can't believe how fast these months have passed.