This morning I took Natalie to her 18 month checkup.
Tommy had to come along since he didn't have school.
We checked in and I was given paperwork to fill out about Natalie's development.
I noticed a lot of questions were autism-related. As in, did she make eye contact? Did she point with her finger? Does she show you things and play with toys properly?
Everything was yes by the way.
Even with her speech. She had to know seven words and she does.
I think on the forum I write at someone mentioned that their ped wanted her 18 month old to know 30 words!
I don't think Natalie knows 30 words. If I had to guess it would be around 20.
Oh and she had to know at least two body parts. Which she does. She basically knows most of them.
In the middle of filling out the paperwork we were called back.
Then Natalie was measured.
She's at 30 and a half inches.
She's at 18 lbs 12.8 ounces.
Her head was 45 cms I think? I'm not quite sure about that one.
But anyhow, guess what I did?
I totally forgot Natalie's diaper bag.
I am forever forgetting her diaper bag.
I realized I had forgot it when I parked in front of the clinic.
"Just please don't poop or anything," I asked Natalie, who laughed and went, "EEEEEEEEE!"
What I didn't know at the time was that was translated to: "I'm totally gonna crap my pants."
Because no sooner than the nurse left then I smelled a foul odor.
Tommy pinched his nose and announced that Natalie pooped and could I please change her?
"I can't," I said. "I forgot her diaper bag."
I mean honestly, who forgets diaper bags??
The room reeked. I'm almost ashamed that such a smell came from such a sweet looking little girl.
Natalie looked quite pleased with herself.
"Natalie," I said. "I asked you NOT to poop."
She laughed at me.
I was embarrassed when the doctor walked into the bog of eternal stench.
"Sorry," I immediately said when he wrinkled his nose."She, um, took a number two and I forgot the diaper bag."
(I didn't want him to think that it was ME who smelled like that after all.)
I hung my head in shame.
(For some reason I couldn't say the word poop to the doctor. I've no idea why. I mean, he's a DOCTOR.)
"That's okay," the doctor said in a cheerful tone. "We have spare ones. It happens."
You mean I'm not the only Mommy who forgets diaper bags?
He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a diaper. And wipes.
"You can go ahead and change her while I go through the paperwork you filled out," he said.
The only problem was the wipes. They were all dried out. They were those really cheap wipes but I didn't want to say anything. It was difficult getting the, erm, poop off with them.
"Natalie stinks!" Tommy said, his nose still plugged.
So basically the doctor looked through all the paperwork and said that Natalie appears to be growing and developing fantastically.
The only issue was that she's a picky eater.
And she refuses milk.
The only milk she wants is breastmilk.
The doctor said to keep offering the cow milk to her. And to possibly try soy milk.
Natalie is just like Tommy though. She only wants water. Or, as I said before, breastmilk.
No cow milk.
But the good news is Natalie is still following her growth line. It's really tiny. I think she's like in the 5th percentile, if that.
But the doctor went, "Well you're petite so she's just following suit."
Is it wrong that I wanted to throw my arms around him because he called me PETITE?
I resisted the urge. I didn't want to scare him.
Natalie only cried when he looked in her mouth. She tried to kick him.
She's getting her top molars in. The bottom ones still haven't popped through yet.
But the bottom line is that she's healthy.
We were going to get her shots but the immunization room was packed and I wasn't about to wait forever.
So we'll come back for those.
I'm delaying the MMR vaccine until she's two. I know there are studies showing that it's not linked to autism but something is going on. And because Tommy has autistic tendencies, well, I can't help but worry. I do think vaccines are important though. But giving a small child tons of shots at once is just not right in my eyes. I've been spreading Natalie's out. She only gets two at one time and no more than that.
After that we headed to the mall to check out the Gymboree sale.
The worker was just setting some bins out.
"I'm sorry," she told me. "I haven't got much out yet. I have tons in the back and..."
I think she kept going but when she said TONS IN THE BACK my mind immediately wanted to know what all was back there.
The back room is my idea of heaven. Some stores allow customers back there.
Some people want to go to the Bahamas.
I want to go into the Gymboree back room. My needs are quite simple.
But then I heard the worker ask me, "What sizes do you need? I'll pull those aside and you can come back and look through them tomorrow."
For the second time that day, I wanted to give a sudden hug.
Instead I calmly said, "Size 18-24 or size 2T."
The worker nodded and wrote it down on a Post-It. Then she gestured to Tommy. "And your boy?"
"Size 6," I said, trying to keep the excitement level down.
I mean, I didn't want her to change her mind and be all, "Yikes. Insane customer. Nevermind!"
"And shoes?" she continued.
THE FUN JUST DIDN'T STOP IN GYMBOREE!
I think I thanked her at least fifty times.
She took my name and phone number and said she should be working tomorrow morning. She said if she wasn't to just mention my time and they'd have a big bag full of stuff for me to go through.
"I just like to help our regular customers," she explained after I thanked her for the forty-fifth time. "I have this one lady who calls and takes all our sale stuff."
Now, I've heard of stories where people will stomp into Gymboree stores and buy all the sale items.
And I don't think you have to guess where these items go.
I hate people like this. Seriously. It's rude.
Because there are people like me who genuinely buy clothes for my children to wear.
I just didn't think we had those Annoying eBay People in my Gymboree store.
But I guess we do.
Which would explain why a lot of the good stuff is usually long gone.
For shame you Annoying eBay People.
"Thank you," I told the Gymboree worker for the forty-sixth time.
She even let me put the stuff I had picked out on hold.
(I had picked out a few pieces from the Prep School line since it was 60% off.)
"Thank you," I said for the forty-seventh time.
"See you tomorrow," the worker said cheerfully.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I do appreciate it," I said for the forty-eighth, ninth and FIFTIETH time.
Now I just hope that the afternoon worker doesn't accidentally put my items out.
Tommy was incredibly patient. In fact, he was browsing his section and looking all serious about what he wanted.
"This is nice," he told me.
I promised that I'd pick him up a few things tomorrow.
"Indeed," he said with a sharp nod.
He cracks me up.
Because he was so patient we went to McDonalds for lunch.
I got my spicy chicken sandwich. Mmmm.
And now we're home and I've just told Tom what the Gymboree lady did for me and he's all,
"But they're for next year. Not now," I promised.
He just shook his head at me and rolled his eyes.
He made himself macaroni and cheese and a hamburger on the Foreman Grill.
And oncee again, DID ALL THE DISHES and scrubbed down the counters.
He at first pretended like he hadn't cleaned up after himself. Because he came upstairs when I was getting up and I asked him why it smelled like burnt cheese.
"I made some stuff last night," he explained.
"And I take it you cleaned up after yourself?" I asked hopefully.
"Uhhh," he lied, staring at the ground.
"Go clean up after yourself then!" I said.
"I can't. I have to get ready to go!" he said and headed for the shower.
But then when I got downstairs I realized he had already cleaned up after himself.
He just, for some reason, enjoys upsetting me.
He says I look cute when I'm mad.