For the 5th time since Lola's birth, we packed the diaper bag full of toys and treats, filled my purse with tissues, loaded her into the car and headed to Memorial Clinic to see Dr. Allred.
Dr. Allred is a great guy. He actually delivered Reece, so he's been in the game for a long time. We trust him. We laugh at his cheesy jokes. We think he's pretty good at what he does.
I always look forward to these appointments, mostly because I love to see where Lola is on the growth charts. It's almost like studying for a test for two months and then getting the results back. Have we been feeding her enough? (Yes) Have we been feeding her too much? (Apparently not, though her irresistible rolls may indicate otherwise) Are the headbands she wears preventing her head from growing proportionately with the rest of her body? (90th percentile, thank you very much)
Lola weighed in at a whopping 19 pounds, 15 ounces. That puts her in the 72nd percentile.
As far as the length goes, this chick is 29 and a quarter inches long, landing her in the 95th percentile.
Again, I ask, how did we get such a tall baby? Maybe we aren't her real parents and I just imagined the whole 10 months of pregnancy and that 24 hour labor and delivery thing.
Along with the latest stats, we also learned of Lola's obsession with medical tools. Who needs a pacifier when you can suck on a stethoscope? And what wonders lie in the simplicity of a tongue depressor! Did I mention the endless entertainment provided by the light on the ear/throat checker thingy? Clearly I'm highly educated in the matters of medicine.
Maybe we will finally have a doctor in our family! I mean, I would have filled that role if it weren't for my hatred/inability when it comes to all things science. Or my irrational fear of needles. And my aversion to blood. And my love of sleep.
If Lola does go for an M.D., I will just add those little letters to the end of my name is well. After all, we share DNA, so we pretty much have to share everything, right?
I despise the shot-related portions of these little checkups, so I scooted out of the room and had my traditional tear-fest in the hallway as Reece held Lola tight. Let him be associated with pain, and me with comfort.
I'm telling you, I'm smarter than I look.