Last month at his 2nd year Well Baby Check up, Donny clocked in at 24 pounds. His doctor said he was fine but that she wanted to see him in a month to see if he gained any weight. She suggested we switchout his water to whole milk and suggested alot of carbs. "Babies love mac and cheese" was her actual suggestion.
This also came around the time that his teachers at Waldorf added a note to his report that we--now, how did they phrase it? "Might want to think about packing 5 different items for his lunch and snack." I think that's how they phrased it, because I spent a couple days slamming pots and pans and muttering variations on, "Yeah and you might want to come OVER TO MY HOUSE and CLEAN MY KITCHEN so I have TIME TO COOK FIVE DIFFERENT THINGS for my son to PUSH OFF THE TRAY OF HIS HIGHCHAIR." Many of these variations started with the phrase, "Considering what we PAY you every month..." but that's another post.
Honestly, I'll fess up to being defensive and being offended by the suggestions, both from his doctor and his teachers. Are they saying I can't take care of my son? So I muttered under my breath but I also did what I was told. Mac and cheese it was, and string cheese and bananas and fruitbars and little boxes of milk in his lunch. I still couldn't go the Gerber's Graduates route but string cheese and fruit and cereal bars went a long way towards those 5 items in his lunch. We also ramped up the breakfast and dinner selections and kept that milk flowing. I started to feel like the witch in Hansel and Gretel; everytime I'd pick the kid up, I'd be thinking, "Hmmmm, better but not ready yet." It became some sort of strange antianorexia by proxy.
Mike took him for his follow up and he weighed in aaaaaaaaaaaaaatttt: 24 pounds.
The same as lsst month. Tho officially he had gained weight when he went in for his pneumonia so, on paper, he actually lost weight.
When he was about a month or so old, he had to go in the hospital because he had lost so much weight. The term used was "failure to thrive." It took about 3 days and a bunch of tests to figure out that it was me, not him: my milk never really came in. Once we started him on Enfamil, he was fine. Those three days of tests, tho--I was so crushed that I couldn't even talk. I think I spent the first day and a half just crying and shaking my head yes or no. That's sort of how I felt today--my cry button got stuck and just would not turn off. He needs to get lab work done "just to rule things out." Part of me knows that he's fine--I mean, the kids happy and active and affectionate. Its the other part of me that needs a talking to.
Donovan just ran past with his bear. Suddenly the bear is his best friend. That's kind of cool. Its more fun than his last best friend, the empty yogurt container...