I have had so many starts of a post in my head this week. I just feel scattered again, like I’m being pulled in several directions and I can’t focus. I have good intentions to start things and then when I get the chance to begin them, I freeze. Sorry to be vague.
A few thoughts:
Ellie had her one-year check up on Tuesday. She is 23 pounds, 30 inches. That puts her in the 80th and 75th percentile, respectively. What can I say? I do not make small children.
She got her final Prevnar shot and I was all nervous because I thought it was MMR shot time but that’s not until 15 months. I have been planning on attempting to space the MMR out and had spoken at length with Ellie’s doctor about this. He had mentioned in passing that it could sometimes be difficult to find the individual vaccines but that in theory he has no problem spacing them.
Well we saw a different doctor, she is new and I don’t love her (note to self: next time request the doctor that I know I like. If nothing else I enjoy consistency). She went on and on about how it’s currently tough to get the “R” by itself, something about a shortage. Then she assured me there has been no proven link between autism and the MMR. I get that. But she doesn’t have a kid with Down syndrome (she’s never met Leo and she obviously doesn’t know us well—she asked me if I wanted to go home and talk the shot issue over with my husband. Grrr.) I know I am probably being paranoid but I just want to do it. The rest of the visit was uneventful. Except that Ellie is officially at the age where it’s no fun to sit in a waiting room with her. She got so Bored. Wanted to get Down. I figured not so great to let her crawl around the floor of the pediatrician’s office. As if the exam table isn’t covered in cooties too.
It’s been another week of early risings. I guess Leo’s internal clock has just been set at 5:30 a.m. I am still so not happy about this. I thought maybe the sun was waking him up so I papered over his windows (he long ago broke the black out shades, thanks Leo). Doesn’t seem to matter. Around the same ungodly hour each morning I hear his door creak open and the patter of his feet. He struggles to climb into our very high bed, succeeds, and begins fishing for remotes because at that hour, what else is there to do but turn on PBS Sprout? And then begins my mad dash to get myself ready, the breakfasts and lunches made, the kids’ clothing picked out. The attempt to not leave the kitchen, the house in a complete and total wreck.
The fence is completed, as I mentioned, so the dog has been spending the days outside. I think it’s good for her, because she seems exhausted in the evening, not so manic (what is she so tired from? Her long day of panting?). The caveat is, she has taken to digging. In my flower beds. I’m not sure what is worse, coming home to one of her “accidents” or to a destroyed, beloved Black Eyed Susan.
I forgot to mention that it’s hot here. Summer in New York is not so fun. I mostly escape it. My walk from the train to work is not bad in the morning while it’s still generally pleasant. But the walk home is miserable. The heat that comes off all those cars, all those people. And the smells.
Thank goodness for central air in the suburbs and not one but two kiddy pools. Happy weekend everyone. Oh and pictured above: What weekends look like around our place. It's just tennis balls and sunbeams.
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