Conversations with the Doctor

Doctor (every single time we have a doctor appointment for a baby): How’s he* nursing.

Me (unless it’s the first week or two): Fine.

Dr: How’s he sleeping?

Me (lying through my teeth): Fine.

[Alternately: Me: Like a baby.**]

Dr: And how many poopy diapers?

Me (every single time!): (First there’s panic—oh no! Should I be counting these things? Weighing them? Marking some sort of tally? Then there’s a reality check. Hello? You just discovered that he gained two pounds and weighs in some epic high percentile. He’s clearly fine. Why does this matter? Then there’s fear of judgment. She’s going to think I’m a bad mother if I don’t know! Then, finally, there’s the vague reply.) Um, I don’t know. Enough?

Dr: (always pressing the issue!) About how many would you guess?

And then I make up some random number just to make her stop asking.

Except this last time, when here’s what I really said: Just tell me what number I should say here so that it seems normal.

Dr: They usually have between a couple and maybe eight per day.

Me: Okay, we’ll go with six.

And that’s my strategy from now on. What do you want to hear, Doctor? Oh, that’s what you wanted? Well, it just so happens that’s exactly what my kid is doing.

The end.

* Or “she,” of course.

** Which is to say, not very well at all.

Day One

No, my girls aren't taking the challenge.
This is just how they dress.

I recently read an article talking about a Dress Challenge: Wear a dress or skirt every day in May (yes, wise guys, this challenge is only suggested for women). I thought it sounded kinda fun, but I definitely wasn’t going to start it in New York City.

So, here we are on day 7 of May and day 1 of my very low-key attempt to take on the Dress Challenge. And here’s how it went:

Hours 1–3: In pajamas. Addra bawling because Brice left for work, because I wouldn’t feed her more marshmallows, because I moved wrong. Because I moved at all? Once she settled into my pajama-clad arms (okay, let’s be honest, I wasn’t even wearing pajamas), I wasn’t about to move and reinitiate the wailing fest.

Hour 4: Finally dressed, in a skirt no less! (Note that I didn’t mention having showered.) Spending an intermittent half hour or so searching for the leggings that I purchased for the very purpose of wearing skirts more often.

Hour 4.5: Changing clothes after Addra sat in my lap again and smeared a little poo on my skirt. Settling on the second skirt I try on.

Hour 5: Finding the leggings, finally, in the dirty laundry where Coriel must have dumped them after wearing them around the house last Wednesday. Happily wearing them.

We’re now at hour 8 or 9, and I’m still wearing the same outfit. Fingers are crossed for the rest of the day.

We’ll see if I make it to day 2.

Update: End of day, still wearing same outfit, although there was an iffy patch there for a while when I thought I might end up having to change after another poo incident that I am not finding very funny. Maybe it’ll be funny in another day or two.