The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Parenting. Sometimes it’s collaborative, sometimes it’s competitive.  There are times when we compare our children to others’, and still other times when we commiserate with other parents.  At times we feel really well supported, and times when we feel utterly alone.

Unfortunately, it seems that we feel most alone in our biggest fears, our greatest concerns.  Sometimes we obsess over one particular haunting thought – and that obsession alone convinces us that we’re kinda crazy and that no other parent could possibly have the same thought.  So, we stuff it down each time it surfaces, and incidentally, we alienate ourselves because we decide that we’re somehow in the minority. We allow those intimate “Do you ever?” conversations with other parents come to an end before we have the courage to address our “silly” obsession.

I have decided that 1) this shouldn’t happen because we’re all in this parenting thing together – and we should absolutely feel safe in the company of others trying to navigate through it all, too.  Just like anything else in life (which any therapist will agree), the sooner we say out loud the things that haunt us most, the sooner they miniaturize and begin to dissolve. And 2) I can guarantee that at least one other parent (if not, all parents) can totally relate to our “strange” feelings, thoughts, fears, etc.

I decided to post a challenge on Facebook to help me address this topic (which was originally going to be a long list of my weird obsession-confessions). I decided to give other parents a place to air their “questions.” It is my hope that these type of authentic “conversations” will continue – and that we can all finally release the thoughts that keep us awake at night, the thoughts that surely no one else can relate to, and finally hear those freeing words, “Me too!”

So, here’s how it started on my Facebook page:

Attn all parents – for my next Parenting on the Peninsula blog, I want to address the ways parenthood alters our thinking. I want to do a post called “I Need to Know,” in which I address all the weird and random thoughts/questions/feelings, etc that you need to know other parents wonder about, too. I’ll go first “I need to know that other parents worry about their kid getting kidnapped from their own bedroom at night.” “I need to know that other parents obsessively worry about their own death because they fear no one could ever take care of, or love, their children as they do.” And, on a lighter note, “I need to know that other parents feel a deep sense of satisfaction after clearing the boogers out of their kid’s nose.”

And here’s how you answered (the number of responses just further confirmed that there’s such a huge need for this kind of open sharing):

I need to know other parents feel defeated at mealtime due to the fact their kids are picky eaters? Can my kid really survive on yogurt mixed with bananas?

I need to know that its okay that I love my son and being a mom more than anything in this world, but miss a piece of “pre-mommy” me at moments.

Do other parents have certain news stories singed into their brains like I do? Stories of moms who just reach the end of it, and are truly suffering from a psychiatric condition. I think I worry that I could somehow get there or do that, even though I know in my heart that wouldn’t happen. I worry incessantly about it.

I need to know how other single parents handle the emerging consciousness of their young ones when they tell you they are sad that you and daddy don’t live together and love each other.

I need to know other moms, at the end of each day, go through in their mind the days events and how they could have done so much better or more for their kids.

I need to know that I am not a terrible mom for only being able to spend 1 hour with my kids at the end of each work day before their bedtime…yet I look forward to their bedtime so I can then have some time to myself (even though I didn’t see them all day). I mean, I only get 1 hour and I can’t wait for them to go to bed? What is that? And am I alone in feeling that way?

I need to know that it is ok that the laundry doesn’t get folded or the fridge doesn’t get cleaned, the dry cleaning doesn’t get picked up and the appointments aren’t kept. If my kid is needing attention that day, the day will be better if I cater to her needs and that’s ok.

I worry every time I go down the stairs with him in my arms that I am going to fall and hurt him somehow. Also, I obsessively count and keep track of each ounce he’s eaten and worry incessantly about it. Ugh

I need to know if other moms are total control freaks, like myself and want everything done their way.

“Am I over parenting?” when do u just step back and relax? Also do other parents worry that they are being judged about their parenting.

I need to know that other parents, while always loving their children, don’t always like them when they are acting like little demons. <—– the first time I had a moment where I realized I didn’t like my kid was horrifying! But then I realized that it happens with all other people, so why not your own biting, sand throwing progeny?

I need to know that the state of the world our children are growing up in scares the living day lights out of others.

I need to know that other people sometimes feel like they don’t know what they did for God to give them such an amazing gift.

I need to know that other parents alternate between being in awe of and so proud of their little blessing, to being mortified that they’ve raised a child that can act like THAT in public!

If I’ll be able to financially support them through college.

That they won’t appreciate things in general.

I pray he doesn’t grow up to be that bratty child that no one wants to be around.

Is my child really cute, or are people just telling me that to be nice? – lol / no joke I look at my kid and think he’s cute, but then sometimes think it might just be me and my hubby being biased.

I’m not a parent but I teach preschool and have for the last 8years….I can say that many parents come to me when they have more than one child…close in age..and they feel like they cant handle it when their husband or wife is constantly working leaving them with all the parental responsibilities…..I also find parents who are so busy that they feel guilty that they leave their child at day care all day…leaving them not wanting to enforce too many rules or restrictions on the kids when they get home….causing more damage than good in the long run….I thought I would send these thoughts your way….

What do you Need to Know?

While we wait…we will wonder…or worry…or whatever. (don’t you just love alliteration?)

I woke up to a surprise when I attempted to take a nap last Saturday.  I skipped out of my boy’s baseball game because I desperately wanted needed a nap.  I told my sweet girl that she could pick a long movie (as apposed to a 22 minute Peppa Pig) and that she could only wake me up in a true emergency (“No, announcing to me that you have to use the potty is not an emergency, just do it, ok?”)

Well, the boys left, and I snuggled in and fell fast asleep.  But, our dog, Sproutie, moved to the front couch, where she can watch out our window and therefore about 45 minutes later she starts barking up a storm.  I awaken enough to realize that I do not hear Ariel singing her tunes and wonder why the movie is already off.  (Luckily) I chose to get up and check on my little stinky pot pie who had lined up all our bleach filled cleaning supplies on our back couch and was using all sorts of different sprays on different parts of the house. Naturally, I launch into a huge lecture about how she knows not to touch these and now is no longer allowed to be left alone for a quiet time except for inside her bedroom (where no bleach is stored there, obviously.) She is crying and I am wallowing in a good dose of Mom Guilt for having completely crashed out instead of my half-awake nap I generally take with one ear “open” to catch even the faint sound of windex on my dishes.

I stop to listen to my child who is crying and hear: “I only wanted to be like the Berenstain Bears!” Huh? “They surprised their mommy by cleaning up.” Hmmm.

Now, I grew up loving the Berenstain Bears (my first real “series”…followed by others like Anne of Green Gables and Narnia ) and since having kids I have loved sharing these treasures with my own Brother and Sister Bear.  Last summer we joined two library clubs and read twice the books and raked in twice the prizes and I have good authority to report that the mother load of BB books is at the Burlingame library.  But, I did not suspect that my little girl would choose my precious nap time to re-enact the story in our home.

So, expectations got the best of us both.  She expected that I’d be thankful and pleasantly surprised.  I expected that she would be all snuggled up enjoying the big privilege of watching a whole movie.  And, If I am honest, expectations always get the best of me: in my marriage, in my parenting, with my extended family, with my friends.  I constantly am having to check to make sure that I am not expecting something of someone else that is unfair. My hunnie says: “I never “should” on anyone!” Yet, that is exactly the way my thoughts go…I should do this….You should do this…they should do that.

Becoming a mom for the first time 8 years ago felt a little lot like this quote to me:

“What did you expect, a walk in the park?

not a carefree stroll, but this is like being mugged in the park!” (We need to talk about Kevin, by Lionel Shriver, p92)

This was such an interesting book …crazy theme and characters, but so well written and so many good quotes to get you thinking. Here’s another one that hit home for me the idea of expectations:

“I wanted what i could ot imagine. i wanted to be transformed; I wanted to be transported. i wanted a door to open and a whole new vista to expand before me that I had never known was out there…expectations are dangerous when they are both high and unformed.” (p92)

Now, as we prepare for our adoption phone call, I find myself with expectations and too many “shoulds” along with some positive wonderings and some negative whatifs.  Similar to when I was pregnant, I wondered…

I wonder what my child will look like?

I wonder what his/her temperament will be?

I wonder if he will be a busy sports- loving boy?

Or, I wonder if she will be a prissy, purse carrying princess?

I think these “wonderings” are normal and fine as long as they don’t become expectations that will leave me (and everyone around me) frustrated if (when) things turn out different.

A small step away from wondering, are the “whatifs”…I will differentiate between the two: “wondering” is a more hopeful openness to whatever will be, whereas, “whatifs” center around a worry or fear of the unknown.

What if future child is not responsive to us, and has a hard time bonding?

What if my kids lives are turned upside down by a court process, or an emotional season that ends with us having to return future child to his/her birh parent after a period of time?

What if I say the wrong thing?

What if I never sleep again?

What I am  trying to do is work on that subtle shift away from worry and back to hopeful.  What I am also trying to do is recognize those enemy expectations and set them aside.  What I am really want to do is just experience all today has to offer, with a thankful heart, and deal with tomorrow and the realities that just ARE when I am there.

(Disclaimer: I am a worrier by nature, and presently, a hormonal mess.  You’ve been warned).

I’m laying next to my little sleeping beauty as she naps.  This has become a daily habit of ours for the past several weeks (past 6 weeks to be exact).  Ever since the exhaustion of pregnancy set in, I cherish DJ’s sleep time, and usually catch some Z’s myself.  This afternoon, though, I can’t seem to shut my mind off.

I’m obsessing over how I’m already messing up my unborn child.  While it might sound like  cracking the quintessential joke about putting aside money for their therapy later in life – the truth is, I’m actually really worried.

When I was pregnant with DJ – I lived and breathed the pregnancy.  Each quiet moment that I had was spent rubbing my belly, talking with her and daydreaming about life with her.  I even made a mixed CD of songs that made me think of her, and I played it almost nightly while I sat in the rocker in her room, caressing my baby bump as we listened to 62 minutes of music.  My husband and I would lay in bed talking to her, about her, with her.  He’d pat my tummy and say hello to her, and tell her how much he already loved her.  I am certain that we began putting her nursery together some time within my first trimester.  Even working on her baby book became a part of my daily routine.  Our lives revolved around the baby we had yet to meet.

This time around, everything is different.  Outside of pulling the sexy elastic band of my maternity jeans over my already protruding stomach (I am 12 weeks pregnant), there are some days when the only times I think about our newest edition are the times when my head is in the toilet, puking.  Even my husband admitted over breakfast the other morning, “there are moments when I forget.” Yeah, me too – and it feels awful.

I have talked with plenty mothers of multiple children to understand that I’m not alone.  It’s very difficult, if not seemingly impossible, to focus on anything other than your toddler if you have one.  DJ has just turned two – and she’s a little firecracker.  She has an opinion about everything, has non-stop energy, and while she wants to do absolutely everything on her own – I still must be present to chaperone her every move.  There is no break to pat my belly.

Even though I am reassured that this is normal – the second pregnancy being nothing like the first in it’s level of intimacy, I can’t help but lay awake wondering if my fetus already feels abandoned?  Is she (we don’t know the sex yet, but I refuse to call it an “it,” and my gut says girl) feeling totally alone in there?  Is she longing for a bedtime story directed only to her?  Is she wondering if the heartbeat that guides the very rhythm of her life, even attached to someone who promises to love her forever?  Is she confident that we want her, that we already love her, that we can’t wait to meet her?  Gosh, I hope so.

And then, I look at my DJ.  She’s been my best buddy for the past 24 months.  We do everything together (seriously, right down to peeing). She’s been my sidekick, the center of my universe, my sole concentration.  Not only do I struggle with wondering how she will adjust, but I struggle in worrying that she will feel less loved once I am dividing my attention – and that breaks my heart.  At the same time, it kind of breaks my heart that our second baby will never ever have the undivided time with us that DJ has had – and that is true of any child that comes after the first.

Before getting pregnant with our second, I was having wine with some girlfriends.  One of the women, who has two children, and I were talking and I had mentioned my fear of DJ feeling slighted by introducing another child into the mix.  She reassured me that she had once had that same fear, but that then she realized that everything she’d want her first child to learn about being a wonderful person, would inevitably come from having a sibling.  Lessons like sharing, having patience, practicing equality yet celebrating individuality, learning to compromise, the value of team work, unity, trust, etc.  Whenever I begin to wonder if I should get a bigger coin jar for DJ’s therapy bills, I think back on that conversation and realize that having a brother or sister will only enrich DJ’s life – in ways that I have yet to discover…and I’m excited about that.  I’m excited to see her not only as a daughter, a grand daughter, a cousin and friend – but as a big sister.  She’s going to be wonderful, I really know that.

When I truly put things into perspective, I can (kind of) stop worrying that the life growing inside of me feels all alone in that great big womb . DJ and I pray for her nightly, for her health, her entrance into this world, her future.  We set aside time every night to share our hopes and dreams for her with God.  And while I don’t have the “time” to get lost in obsessive thoughts of the color of her bedding – the moments I do spend thinking about her are deliberate and sincere.

What I do know, and trust above all else, is that I will inevitably feel the abundant, instant and unconditional love for her the moment I first meet her, that I did when DJ was first placed against my chest.  My heart will expand, and there’ll be room for two.  I have total faith that in that very moment, I will know that life was not complete until she joined us – and that somehow, someway – through the jealousy and territorial wars, it will all work out.  It just will.

And it will be beautiful.

In preparation for today’s blog post, I have been obsessively contemplating between two topics.  One is light and airy, and feel-goody all around – while the other is basically an admission of insanity.  I keep asking myself what I want my readers to think of me, and then I remember that I gave up caring!  In a recent email exchange with a friend of mine, I realized that the two go hand-in-hand – so lucky you, today you get two for the price of one.

Our previous house, which was the one we brought DJ home from the hospital to, was situated on a corner.  Her bedroom had a very large window that peered out onto the intersecting streets.  Our front yard didn’t have a fence.  I used to lay awake at night worrying that a drunk driver would come barreling over the sidewalk, across our grass and smack through DJ’s window toward her crib.  I asked my husband countless times if we could switch bedrooms with DJ, but never gave him a good enough reason (I omitted the disturbing vision that I just laid out above for the whole world to read). At this point, I understand that you’re either laughing in horror or disbelief, or you’re seriously worrying about my well-being. I get it.  It sounds so totally irrational when I say it out loud – but worries like these are completely and truly a part of my life.

I worry that DJ will wriggle free from my arms as I’m crossing the street and get plowed over by a semi truck.  I worry that she’ll drown in our toilet in the middle of the night (despite our child safety lock, and the fact that she can’t even reach her door knob to let herself out of her bedroom).  I worry that someone will break into our home, again, despite our alarm system, and somehow manage to snatch her from her bed while I am sleeping.  I worry that she’ll stop breathing.  I worry, worry, worry, about the most random and far-fetched scenarios.

This is the “admission of insanity” topic.  This is the topic that I’ve wanted to share week after week after week after week – but it just felt too glum to put into writing.  I’ve wanted to ask if any of you can relate, and I’ve wanted to say to anyone else who is haunted by such fears, “You’re not alone.”

I don’t worry about germs.  I don’t worry about illness.  I don’t worry about her choking on a grape.  I don’t worry about her happiness.  I don’t worry about her going hungry, or having her heart broken, or getting picked on in school.  I don’t worry that she’ll grow into adulthood confused about what she wants or who she is.  I just worry about the weird stuff.

Gosh, it feels so good to release all of that.  BLAH…..

Now, the feel-good part….I am madly, deeply, and profoundly in love with my daughter.  I have just made it through another storm (of tantrums), and am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel (if only temporarily, as I know the tantrums will last for years, decades, lifetimes to come).  I am seeing the sweeter side of DJ’s temperament, and am truly enjoying every second of her company.  I anxiously await each day together, excited about what new words she’ll use, what facial expression she’ll try out, and what new discovery she’ll make in her world.  I’m actually just in absolute awe of her….such a little person making such a huge impact.  I find no greater joy than watching people light up as they interact with her.  She’s truly a special girl.

I think it’s been the job.  That part time job that I took on about six weeks ago has helped me gain perspective on things that I’ve been struggling with for almost two years now.  You know, the “Who am I if I’m not working?” query.  Now that I am directing my attention away from DJ 15 hours a week, I am allowing myself to accept that being a full time stay-at-home mom is a pretty damn important job.  I am finally wrapping my head around the blessing, and pleasure, it is to have so much time with my girl.  And, I am accepting that I am a really cool chick – job outside of the home or not….I rock.

So, how do the morbid and the merry topics relate?  Well, I think that because I am so ridiculously in love with DJ, I have become consumed by thoughts of things outside of my control.  Why I choose to agonize over the absurd scenarios that I do is beyond me…..except that, I have a lot of confidence in the things that I can control – like meeting DJ’s needs.  It’s the things that could happen to harm her that make me nuts.  It’s like running through a fire drill – if I am prepared (by way of pondering), then we can potentially avert the ramifications.

Truth be told though, I know there are more things out of my control than within it.  I know that worrying won’t change the outcome of anything.  I know that wasting my energy on such horrific thoughts is only harmful to myself – and my daughter.  I also know that loving someone as unconditionally as I love my daughter comes with a huge responsibility to keep her safe and protected.  I know that I am doing the best that I can.  And, I know that she never ever ever needs to hear my irrational fears said out loud.

This is motherhood.  It’s beautiful, and it’s terrifying.  It’s bliss, and it’s angst.  It’s trust, and it’s doubt.  It’s control, and it’s surrender.  It is a perpetual internal struggle, and yet it’s the most gratifying and transformational experience in the world.  And I am grateful.

It’s been a long morning – the kind of morning lead by gross imagination, by negative stories, and by worst-case scenarios.  I have only just exhaled.

A few weeks ago, DJ had her 18 month well-check.  As you know from reading my blog, her shots were traumatic, and her growth was slow.  While I am still taking steps to manage her growth, I have also finally made peace with the fact that she is just small.  She is small – and totally healthy.  So, I can cross that worry off my list.  For now.

However, since getting her shots that wretched afternoon, DJ has been steadily complaining about her knee.  She whines, holds her knee and repeats, “knee, knee, knee” in this gentle, yet tearful voice.  For the first few days, my husband and I chalked it up to pain related to her shots, along with the enjoyment for the sympathy we readily showed.  Every time she’d complain, we were quick to offer her knee kisses and sweet, warm touches to her leg.

Fast forward two weeks, and DJ is still complaining about her knee.  Her complaints are now mixed in with her tantrums.  So, last night, after throwing herself to the floor and sprinkling complaints about her knee in with her newfound growl – we decided it was time to take her in.

Her doctor asked a few questions, made a few harmless speculations about what was likely causing the pain (if in fact it was really there, and not a trained response to hoard more compassion from us).  And then she said, “But, I think we should be thorough and do a few blood tests.”  “A few blood tests?  For what?  What would we be looking for?”  “Honestly, Gina, worst-case scenario, leukemia.  Leukemia causes bone pain.”

The world stopped.

For several minutes.

“OK, can we do that today?  How long will I have to wait for results?”  Oh my gosh.  Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.  Is this really happening?

“Yes, go to the lab now.  I will have results in 1 hour and will call you.”

I have been to that hospital a million times and suddenly forgot where the lab was.  I did a few laps around the main entrance before I remembered what I was doing there and where I was going.  We entered the lab, and my heart sank.  I had promised DJ a dozen times that morning that she wouldn’t be getting any shots today.  I was sick.  I had to break that promise, and I knew that having her blood drawn would be far more traumatic than getting an immunization.  DAMNIT.

It took two nurses, a tourniquet, and a previously untapped strength to get through the blood draw.  “Be strong. Don’t cry.  Be strong.  Don’t cry,” I kept telling myself.  It was horrific to see my baby girl so scared.  She was a trooper though, and stopped crying immediately after we left the sterile room.  I, on the other hand, cried all the way home.

I waited. And waited. And waited.  I stared at my phone for an hour and a half.  Paralyzed and unable to do anything but wait.

My husband called.  The doctor had called his number instead.  “Everything looks great, Gina.  She’s just waiting for one more test to come in, and she’ll call you once she has all the results.  So far, though, nothing to worry about.”

In between his call, and the doctor’s call – I logged into my health account and pulled up DJ’s results.  Some of the numbers were outside of the “normal” range.  I did what my husband has warned me not to do seven thousand times before, and turned to Google.  In reading other cases, and what this and that meant, I had convinced myself that DJ’s bone marrow was abnormal.  I had diarrhea.

Then, my phone rang.  The doctor.  “Everything looks great.”  She went on to explain everything she tested for, what the results meant, and even confirmed that my fears about the abnormal results.  DJ’s numbers were in fact, more favorable than the normal range!  I felt like she was talking forever, and I couldn’t comprehend any of it.  I finally interrupted, “So, she’s OK?  Not a chance of leukemia?”  She reassured me – not a chance.

Oh, thank you God.

DJ is napping peacefully now.  She is healthy.  My baby girl is healthy.  Our plan is to lay off the “knee sympathy” this week, and then return for a possible x-ray on Friday if the complaining doesn’t subside.  I can deal with hairline fractures, pulled muscles, or strained ligaments.  I can totally deal with that.

Today, I realized that there are some moms who get the call that their babies are actually sick.  Today, my heart absolutely ached for those moms.  I had ever-so-briefly put myself in their shoes and realized that they posses a strength and grace that I pray I will never know.  Today I realized that we are all in this parenting thing together – and that while my baby isn’t sick, I now have a sense of empathy that I wouldn’t have ever had if our pediatrician hadn’t said the word “leukemia.”  As of today, I will never be able to see, read about, or hear of a child with a life-threatening disease without thinking of the two miserable hours I waited to hear news about my own child.

I am stopping myself from being consumed by what-ifs, and I’m instead devoting that energy to praying for the sick children whom I know of.  I hope you will all do the same.  How wonderful to imagine a community that stops and prays, or sends positive energy, or well wishes, every single time we hear of a family suffering?  Let’s be that community. Our babies are so, so precious.  I will be holding mine close today.

DJ had her 18 month check up last week – and it was awful.  I wish I could say that the shots were the worst part, but they weren’t.  Well, not to me anyway. I am certain that if DJ could talk in sentences, she’d fight that one to the bone!  I do have to say though, that for some reason, this round of vaccinations were traumatic for her.  She cried – wait, she wailed, for what seemed like hours.  She also took full advantage of the situation and is STILL (3 days later) making me kiss her “knee” – the only word she knows for the anatomy of her leg.

So, what could have possibly been worse than the giant needles jammed into her innocent skin?  THOSE DAMN PERCENTILE CHARTS.  Damn those wicked, debilitating, fear-mongering percentile charts.

DJ has always been small.  She was 6 lbs 7 oz when she was born, and while always healthy, has just never grown exponentially.  When I look at her, I see perfection of course – and it’s only when her pediatrician mentions her ranking against “other kids” that I begin to panic.  Can someone tell me who these other kids are?

Leading up to DJ’s appointment, I was feeling incredibly confident.  I had suspected that she had gained weight, and had even been getting taller.  Because I have always been slightly obsessed with her size because she’s always been ranked below the tenth percentile, and because people always comment on how petite she is – there was a lot, in my mind, weighing (no pun intended) on the numbers from this doctor’s visit.  I was telling myself that I would finally put this obsession to rest when the doctor was able to reassure me that DJ’s numbers went up.

“Well, she’s actually lost weight since her last visit 4 weeks ago.”  Wait, what?  I felt my whole body tense up, and I froze.  Well, everything except my mouth froze – and I began rattling off how this couldn’t be, and what did it mean, and how worried this all made me.  DJ’s doctor told me that she wasn’t concerned for a number of reasons – because DJ was going to be petite based on genetics (my husband and I are both shorties!), because developmentally DJ was ahead of the gang, and because she “looked wonderful.”

We left that appointment with another check-up scheduled in 2 LONG months (yes, I will be obsessing over this for the next 2 months…..daily) – and with me on the very edge.  I was so snappy with my poor husband – and later had to apologize, then admit that I was just so, so stressed out.  I had never prepared myself for news other than that DJ was soaring UP the growth charts.

I took DJ to the park when we got home.  I was texting my good friend (and fellow worrier) while I was watching DJ walk up the playground stairs and slide down the big kid slide.  I was desperate to find comfort, encouragement, support – even if just through a simple text.  While my friend was amazing, and said all the right words, I still vomited this story all over the first mom who even looked my way.

“She just had her 18 month check up.  She’s in the first percentile for weight.  I’m devastated.”  This poor mom was probably thinking, “Get a grip, psycho – and stop airing your dirty laundry.”  However, the really amazing thing about her was that she poured out all these candy-coated words of wisdom and assurance, and sprinkled them in with a little humor, “At least she’s not short and obese – that’s a yucky combo.”

My laughter must’ve been the green light for a playground dad to interject.  He told me that two of his three children were always under the tenth percentile for height and weight – and that by the time they both turned 5, they had caught up.  He was so sweet, and helped me reason through some of the inaccuracies associated with a percentile chart.   He even made it a point to comment on how much more advanced DJ was then either of his daughters were at her age – and even compared his 16 month old son with DJ, noting how she seemed leaps and bounds beyond his capabilities.  I was super touched that for a moment, this dad was willing to say that I had the smarter, more agile kid, because he knew how desperately I needed to hear it.

When I got back home, not only was I in a better mood – but, I was ever so slightly less anxious about the appointment.  I also remembered that DJ was in all of her clothes, shoes, and most likely pee-filled diaper at her last appointment.  This was an important detail to me because I remember briefly celebrating her weight last month, only to think “Oh, well, she is wearing a few pounds of clothes.”  So, really, I don’t think DJ lost weight from her last appointment – which was my greatest concern.

I can’t pretend that I haven’t been tossing “failure to thrive” around in my mind every other hour these past few days, but I am feeling more and more confident in DJ’s individuality.  She is never going to be a big person – there are no big people in either my or my husband’s family (by that, I seriously mean no one over 5’7”).  So, really, what do I expect?  If the doctor isn’t worried, why am I?

I will keep buying every toddler recipe book that I see, will keep up the butter-on-everything approach, will keep my cookie cutters readily available to make sandwiches and fruit more attractive, and will continue allowing a scoop of whole milk ice cream here and there in combination with all the rest of the uber-healthy food that I prepare fresh for DJ everyday – oh, and will keep surrendering my fears.  In my gut, I know she’s fine.

My baby girl is perfect – and I am so, so grateful for the strangers in the park a few days ago who were selfless enough to let me have the most perfect kid on the playground that evening.

P.S. I stayed awake until 2:00 this morning making food charts, lists of calorie-rich foods, and even new snack recipes.  Whether or not there’s something to worry about, taking control makes me feel like a better mom.