Finally took the girls to the doc yesterday. Nice new clinic next to my house which almost, ALMOST, makes up for the doctor who I think was flippant and thought she was way to cool for my tastes. I'm spoiled, I know. I have a pediatrican in Olympia, Washington who I see every chance I get. When he finally retires I will go into mourning. I know I sound like a stalker, but I'm not. He's just a great human being and relished seeing us because we were pretty dependable for bringing in problems a little more challenging than a diaper rash Amoebas? Yep. Herpes Simplex infection of the eyelid? Oh yeah. Malaria? Check. Dengue Fever? Of course. We Richardsons are nothing if not consistent. This pediatrician saw us through the worries of living in Egypt, the Philippines and Indonesia with small children. He confided that we were the only patients he's ever given his personal email to. The weirdness of life found me seeing his wife for lactation consulting this past December. She was also a wonderful human being.
Anyhoo, this doctor met my questions with that 'of course it's not a problem you big fat idiot' kind of response.
Sophia only pooping about once a week? Oh well, of course, breast milk is absorbed so well that's not uncommon, you big fat idiot.
"Is she underweight?" I ask. "Well, underweight or overheight. I prefer to think of it as overheight." says said doctor. To which I must have given her 'the look' (I'm good at the look, but unlike a true Jedi, I can not turn it on and off at will), and she kindly did say she would check her growth chart. So, she seems to be a little under, but since I did say she looks like all the other kids I've birthed (pipecleaners with heads), not to worry. (you big fat idiot.)
Sabrina is also lookin' good at 38 inches and 30.5 pounds. Sophie is a lean, mean, cryin' machine at 24 inches and 10.5 pounds.
Sabrina didn't get any shots, but the doc agreed that I should take her in for another speech evaluation, which is consistent with the special education people in Olympia this past fall. I'm not worried, but I want to make sure she is on target. She is saying more and more every day. If I've learned anything with Kyle my kindergartner, it is to be on top of every problem quickly and stick it out. I've got my guns loaded this time, I know what I'm doing. I've been through this system before.
Sophie DID get shots. Boy, did she get shots. Five. And some sort of oral medicine to cut the amount of yucky stuff she may contract from all those dirty boys that live at our house. Her poor little legs are nothing but bandaids. And that thought makes me sweat; taking off all those bandaids. Might be worse than the shots themselves.
So, with both girls passed our for naps from the trauma, Kyle and I treated ourselves to ice cream. (He had to come with and wait patiently on a chair with his gameboy. When he wasn't trying to run over the doctor's toes with the wheele stool. Or looking in every drawer. Or asking over and over again why the needles had to be disposed of in that special plastic box.)
Not just any ice cream, mind you, but home made ice cream! My friendly neighbors have an ice cream maker and that thing ROCKS! It's nice and small, you plug it in, add stuff, push a button and it just goes. No rock salt. Not even any ice. No special instructions for instruction following impaired people. So, I told hubby I wanted one too, for Valentine's Day.
Well, I got an ice cream maker for Valentine's Day. Boy, is this an ice cream maker. It makes up to 6 quarts (that, dear readers, is 1 1/2 gallons of ice cream!). It weighs 100 pounds, takes up the space of a toddler and requires rock salt, of which I had no idea you had to go to an actual hardware store to purchase. I'm afraid of said ice cream maker.
But it does make nice ice cream. We made vanilla because of course, if you ask six different people what ice cream flavor they want to make, you get six different answers. Voila - vanilla!
In order to make the ice cream, you have to lug the ice cream maker outside because it's 1. messy, 2. LOUD. REALLY REALLY LOUD. Here's the dog trying to get the first bite of ice cream.
This weekend we had our college friend Todd H. down to visit. Todd was Rob's roomie at the Crew House at the UDub and in Sacramento and Newport Beach during parts of Rob's stint at CalTrans, his best man at our wedding, and is also a civil engineer. Let me tell you, making ice cream with two engineers is an experience. A nerdy experience. "Hmmm,.. what temperature do you think the ice is at?" "Is that a counter clockwise rotation?"
Good grief! Who cares! Just tell me when it's done so I can lick the paddle.
Here is Todd and his totally cute, totally wonderful kids, Lucas and Kaitlyn. The last time we saw them was when Kaitlyn was in an infant car seat in the airport on her way to Alaska to see her grandparents.
Here are all the kids. Ours were very excited to have friends come over and play in the hot tub, watch a movie with and sleep over. The dads paid $1 to any kid who jumped in the pool (water temp 47 degrees), another dollar if it was in the deep end, and $5 was offered for anyone swimming the length of the pool. I think Kyle faired the best and cleared $2 for his accomplishments. Thankfully the mommy present (read: only responsible adult on said premises) didn't have to treat any small children for hypothermia.
We watched that oldy but goody Labrynth with David Bowie. To which Zach commented over and over that Mr. Bowie looked like a girl. Be still my heart! If only he knew that as a teenager I swooned over the artist who made guyliner famous and did indeed own a copy of the Labrynth record album. But I'll never tell.
Todd and his clan left us Sunday morning. I cleaned up after seven kids having a grand old time for the past few days and Rob did a little work. When I took this picture he took offense thinking I was chalking up evidence for his workaholism when in fact this is the first weekend he's worked at home this year. That wasn't my intention anyway, I wanted to show what a hard worker he is!
I also told him that I will have the honor of having an ESRI article published in Professional Surveyor Magazine this April, to which he responded he couldn't wait to write a letter to the editor and tell them I dropped out of surveying in college.