Nine Months
The boys had their nine-month checkup the other day. This was the regular pediatric checkup that all kids endure, not one of the special preemie checkups that the everyone with an interest in the boys is trying to schedule; the NICU wants to be sure they’re developing properly after discharge, the school system wants to be sure they’re developing properly in anticipation of school, and the fast food industry that wants to employ them in 15 years wants to be sure they’ll be able to work the registers.
I learn a lot from these appointments. The first thing I learn is no matter how early we start getting ready to leave, it’s never early enough. I thought we were in good shape when the kids joined in three-part harmony a half-hour before I usually fetch them in the morning. An early start would let me take my time in the morning and avoid the rush I had planned of spoon-feeding the boys with one hand, pouring Abbie’s cereal with the other hand, and shoveling cereal into my mouth with, um, I guess a foot. Now I could enjoy breakfast, read a little newspaper, and maybe even fully chew my food before swallowing.
I dumped my bowl in the sink with 15 minutes to pack up the kids and walk out the door. 15 minutes later I had the boys packed up, and Abbie was on our front step getting her shoes on. I tied the final knot, checked my watch, and stood up in celebration. Then I noticed she had a poopy diaper. We wound up checking in five minutes late, but it was a good five minutes late because the room was empty and the staff was waiting for us, as opposed to the bad kind of five minutes late where they give your appointment to the people scheduled after you because they had the decency to show up early, probably because they’re one of those soft families with only one child.
The nurse ran the standard checks for temperature, chest sounds, and general baby-ness. Then she took their measurements, and found that both are up to 27-inches long. This was a surprise since Ian has been shorter than Tory since birth by a half- to full-inch. Even more surprising was her initial measurement that showed Tory as a half-inch shorter. She then carefully remeasured both of them to ensure that they had the correct size, or maybe she was appeasing the deranged father who couldn’t accept that Ian was now taller.
Next they moved onto the scale. Tory weighed a shade over 18.5 pounds, and Ian weighed a shade less than 16.5 pounds. This reflects the weight disparity that’s been present every since Tory found the good end of the amniotic fluid. Tory continues to grow well, although Ian’s weight is troublesome. We’re not worried there’s anything wrong Ian, he’s just going to have an isolated trip back to see the grandparents for the holidays if he doesn’t pack on enough pounds to turn his car seat forward-facing.
Finally the doctor arrived. He handed me a sheet of nine-month milestones that hadn’t changed in the 18 months since Abbie’s visit. The boys hit most of the milestones, though I had to call to one of them in the office to see if they respond to their names.* They hadn’t hit the waving milestone, but Abbie didn’t do that until she was 18-months, and her communication skills have … turned … out … never mind.
When the doctor plotted their growth curve, both are moving fine although Tory had surprisingly dropped a couple percentiles in weight. The doctor wasn’t concerned because his height had jumped a couple percentiles, meaning he was growing up not out. That must also mean that Ian is growing straight up since he caught Tory’s height.
As the doctor finished, I snuck in a question about Abbie. It turns out I can switch her to 1% or even skim milk. I was concerned because her growing up-to-out ratio seems a little low lately. Our next Abbie milk purchase will be 1%, and skim in a couple months when the boys start whole cow’s milk. That way I’ll only need to stock two kinds of milk in our fridge instead of keeping three kinds on tap. I have a feeling the boys are going to need to stay on whole milk for a while with their plummeting weight-percentile and insufficient size to sit forward-facing.
* Ian did. I didn’t try it with Tory, but yelling his name doesn’t seem to do much good when he’s sitting outside stuffing his face with grass.
I learn a lot from these appointments. The first thing I learn is no matter how early we start getting ready to leave, it’s never early enough. I thought we were in good shape when the kids joined in three-part harmony a half-hour before I usually fetch them in the morning. An early start would let me take my time in the morning and avoid the rush I had planned of spoon-feeding the boys with one hand, pouring Abbie’s cereal with the other hand, and shoveling cereal into my mouth with, um, I guess a foot. Now I could enjoy breakfast, read a little newspaper, and maybe even fully chew my food before swallowing.
I dumped my bowl in the sink with 15 minutes to pack up the kids and walk out the door. 15 minutes later I had the boys packed up, and Abbie was on our front step getting her shoes on. I tied the final knot, checked my watch, and stood up in celebration. Then I noticed she had a poopy diaper. We wound up checking in five minutes late, but it was a good five minutes late because the room was empty and the staff was waiting for us, as opposed to the bad kind of five minutes late where they give your appointment to the people scheduled after you because they had the decency to show up early, probably because they’re one of those soft families with only one child.
The nurse ran the standard checks for temperature, chest sounds, and general baby-ness. Then she took their measurements, and found that both are up to 27-inches long. This was a surprise since Ian has been shorter than Tory since birth by a half- to full-inch. Even more surprising was her initial measurement that showed Tory as a half-inch shorter. She then carefully remeasured both of them to ensure that they had the correct size, or maybe she was appeasing the deranged father who couldn’t accept that Ian was now taller.
Next they moved onto the scale. Tory weighed a shade over 18.5 pounds, and Ian weighed a shade less than 16.5 pounds. This reflects the weight disparity that’s been present every since Tory found the good end of the amniotic fluid. Tory continues to grow well, although Ian’s weight is troublesome. We’re not worried there’s anything wrong Ian, he’s just going to have an isolated trip back to see the grandparents for the holidays if he doesn’t pack on enough pounds to turn his car seat forward-facing.
Finally the doctor arrived. He handed me a sheet of nine-month milestones that hadn’t changed in the 18 months since Abbie’s visit. The boys hit most of the milestones, though I had to call to one of them in the office to see if they respond to their names.* They hadn’t hit the waving milestone, but Abbie didn’t do that until she was 18-months, and her communication skills have … turned … out … never mind.
When the doctor plotted their growth curve, both are moving fine although Tory had surprisingly dropped a couple percentiles in weight. The doctor wasn’t concerned because his height had jumped a couple percentiles, meaning he was growing up not out. That must also mean that Ian is growing straight up since he caught Tory’s height.
As the doctor finished, I snuck in a question about Abbie. It turns out I can switch her to 1% or even skim milk. I was concerned because her growing up-to-out ratio seems a little low lately. Our next Abbie milk purchase will be 1%, and skim in a couple months when the boys start whole cow’s milk. That way I’ll only need to stock two kinds of milk in our fridge instead of keeping three kinds on tap. I have a feeling the boys are going to need to stay on whole milk for a while with their plummeting weight-percentile and insufficient size to sit forward-facing.
* Ian did. I didn’t try it with Tory, but yelling his name doesn’t seem to do much good when he’s sitting outside stuffing his face with grass.
posted by Matt at
11:25 PM
2 Comments:
Mine are 15 months old today and we are still facing backwards.
By
Amy, at 8:03 PM
I’ve heard that you should leave your children rear-facing for as long as possible, well past the minimum of 20-pounds and 1-year, but I can’t do that to them. We turned Abbie around at 1-year (well, maybe a day or two before her birthday) and she was so much happier.
By
Matt, at 11:31 PM
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