This morning I went into the girls room and found poor Mumu using a puffed out pee pee diaper as a pillow. No doubt it was soft and squishy, but standards babygirl! I can’t imagine how this happened. Yea right, I know exactly how it happened. Last night was brutal. I blame the pediatrician.
We went in for the twinnies 9 month checkup, and all was grand. Well, almost grand. Our pediatrician left the island to go live/practice in a fabulous Colorado ski town/resort, but not before she imparted some advice to me in hushed tones behind the baby scale: Get them off this island before they reach school age. She looks to her left and right. Don’t tell anyone I said that. Oh I know, sister. I was the only one over 19 in my OB’s waiting room. The girls will be coming of age elsewhere.
Her replacement is nice, great credentials and all that, but its not the same. Sigh. Anyway, so this was the first time we met the new doc and he was happy with the girls progress but of course he’d never met them at 3lbs, so he can’t really see how far they’ve come. Not holding that against him, just sayin… We were thrilled that they are in a comfortable position on the old growth chart and happily keeping pace with babies 2 months younger. Go superpreemies! But. But we did fess up that Lulu wakes us several times in the night wanting bottles and the doc said that has to stop. You can imagine how well that’s going! So it was hell night, a never ending stream of tears and yelling and 2 little zombie vampire babies trying to suck out the last dredges of our sanity. It was Thriller. Thriller night. But nobody was dancing…
Ah, I remember the weaning days. Difficult. Makes you feel guilty and not just a little bit exhausted!