You don't need to turn off the music to watch this video. (I had planned to post a new song but I'll leave the dog song on for a couple more days before replacing it because I chuckle more watching this video with it.)
Lucky girl! She's got her Daddy's dance moves. Look out, world!
She's a week short of 3 months old and she has FINALLY grown out of her Newborn size clothes. It has only taken her 2.5 months to be 0-3 months. Go figure. At this rate, she will be able to wear her cute summer dresses with snow boots!
Baby Dhis had her 2-month check-up on Friday. She weighed 8lbs. 10oz. putting her at 5th percentile. Her reflux is still there. I was about to ask the doc if it was ok to lower her crib mattress when my baby choked on the oral vaccination the assistant was administering to her. There was my answer.
Did I mention it was vaccination day? Baby Dhis was happily sucking on her pacifier when the assistant inserted the first of five needles into her thigh. Baby's sucking paused, her eyes got big, her mouth opened letting the pacifier tumble down her body and onto the examination table. Such a sad little cry began, and as the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th needles were put in, her face turned red and she silently inhaled for her big cry. (You know the one.) "Cry it out, sweetie!" I said as the energy built up in her face. She screamed her pain out. My heart winced. Once the band-aids were on, I held her close and she buried her face into my neck. Then... she was fine and dandy. So much so that the receptionist didn't believe me when I told her she had, in fact, just received her shots. (Na-ah. Ya-huh. Na-ah. Ya-huh.)
Here's my rant...
I am taking care of this baby. Asides her acid reflux, she is feeling great! I feed her, clean her, rock her, play with her, love her. She is sleeping, playing, and chilling. She is a small girl compared to a lot of babies, but she is the same size I was at her age. Small does not equal undernourished. Her pediatrician says she's fine, just petite. Stop telling me to feed her longer, more often, and in greater quantities. Stop telling me I need to give her a bottle of water. Don't tell me she's hungry when I've told you she's crying because she's sleepy. Don't tell me she's hungry when I've told you she needs her diaper changed. Don't tell me she's hungry because she's sucking her pacifier. Don't tell me she's hungry because __(fill in the blank)__. Baby and I have each other down for the most part; we're together 20 to 24 hours of the day. We're tight like that. I don't mind advice or suggestions, but do not hound me with feed-her!feed-her!feed-her! after I've told you what my baby is asking for because you're essentially telling me that I am wrong and you would be a better mother to my baby. And don't try the passive route by telling my baby "Oh, why you cryin'? Are you hungry? Yes, you're hungry. Maybe Mommy will feed you" because that crap don't fly no matter how many miles you try to log with it. My baby is lightweight, not underweight.
(The preceding paragraph has been edited to remove the multiple uses of the words"$%@#!" and "#*@^$!")
Baby Dhis says: "Do these look like the muscles of a wimpy baby??? You don't want tickets to this gun show!"