Took Viv, AKA Sumo Baby, to her 2 month appointment today. Our little heavy weight weighed in at 13 lbs. She is in the 95th percentile, which I am just now discovering means she is larger than 95% of other babies her age. I never bothered to figure out what the percentile thing meant with Jude, not because I didn't care. Well, I guess I must not have cared that much or I would've checked into it. I didn't check because he was just perfect to me, and I hate numbers (they make me want to vomit), so it was like, "Ehhh. Ok." With Viv AKA Sumo Baby though, she just seems huge (in a perfectly endearing way, mind you) so I'm more curious to know. The numbers prove me correct. I do in fact have a sumo baby. I try not to get into the whole percentile thing still, because those numbers in the big picture don't mean squat. I've eavesdropped on too many other mothers' conversations where they are already talking about their babies and comparing numbers as if they are taking tabs on test scores for college entry into Ivy League schools- which is just stupid. I'm learning that in the world of babies and children, women can be just as catty and competitive and snide as they are/were before they had them. Gross.
Here she is (above) just moments before she got her shot trifecta, which she was totally thrilled about. It sucks watching your baby get shots. Just walking into a pediatric doctor's office gives me anxiety because as you are walking back to your little room for your check up, the screams and cries and shrieking from other children in the surrounding other rooms make you feel like you are walking into a house of horrors.
My mother is also beginning to give me a slight complex about Viv's head getting flat on one side, since babies are strongly urged to sleep on their backs. Viv favors turning her head to the right, and in turn, the right side is getting a little flat. When we were babies, we slept on our tummies and we turned out just fine so I see no problem with some tummy sleeping from time to time. Our awesome pediatrician not only ordered her more tummy time, assuring me that it wasn't anything to be concerned about and that it will fix itself after a few months, but he also ordered me to tell my mom to stop giving me shit about my baby's head. More than happy to oblige.
Zonked. Sleep little Sumo. Big brother will be up from his nap and ready to harass you again in no time.
I had to drive out to BFE Edmond/Deer Creek yesterday to bring Taylor a disk of boring land man stuff he forgot at home. The drive through the rural area was super nice and made me, for the first time ever, consider what it would be like to live out in BFE Edmond or Deer Creek. I hear the schools there are better than those in Oklahoma City... I always forget that those are the kinds of things we are going to have to start thinking about eventually now that we have kids. It's weird thinking about that stuff. It makes me nervous.
Here is a beautiful gigantic castle I saw on my drive out in Northwest Edmond and Deer Creek. I can't imagine needing a house this big, but I'm guessing that the King of Oklahoma must live here, so he must need plenty of room for the royal family and all of their servants.
On a completely random and irrelevant note, I make the best f'ing jambalaya you've ever eaten. It's radioactive and you'd think I'd been raised a Cajun and grew up amongst the swampy marshes of Louisiana with how fantastic it is. Here is a picture of it right before Taylor, Nicholi, my mom and I killed pretty much the entire thing. I'm thinking I will make it again this upcoming Sunday for True Blood, because that deliciously gratuitous show is even sexier and tackier when eating hot Cajun food while viewing.
