Dear Friends and Family,
We spent a quiet weekend at home knowing that next weekend will be a busy one.
Saturday, we slept in. I think we all needed it.
Then, we went to get my driver's license renewed. I could have done it by mail, but I wanted a new picture. I was 55 pounds heavier in my old picture (before Weight Watchers) and thought the hour wait well worth the new picture. Now the big question, do I take my picture again in four years, since I'm still carrying around baby weight? Guess we see in four years.
For lunch, we went for Korean fried chicken. P had lunch compliments of our super convenient booth with high walls. Breastfeeding can be more convenient. It can definitely be less convenient. We're still doing it for now. My new goal: four months. We'll assess again at that point.
We came home. Mommy manicure time. Then, Mr. mouse stayed at home and played with P while I headed out for a wedding. One of my friends from work was getting married and I wanted to go. Since it looked like an adults only affair, we split for the evening. I'm glad I went. I miss some people who moved to a new department.
Sunday, we got up early to get ready for our dratted doctor's appointment. This time, armed with a real baby scale that we finally broke down and bought and a bottle of wine we weighed three times to calibrate our three scales (there's under a half ounce in question between the three scales), we went in loaded for bear. And, I mean loaded for bear. I'm sick and tired of the bullshit stress that comes from the bullshit weigh-ins that never seem to go well.
Okay. Baby: 10 pounds, 4 ounces. Wine: 2 pounds, 15 ounces.
As soon as we got into the exam room and the assistant left, we grabbed the bottle of wine to tare the scale. Neither Mr. mouse nor I had any interest in undressing P if the scale was off. What does the wine weigh? 2 pounds 7 ounces. Re-tared and re-weighed. 2 pounds 9 ounces. I'm ape @%#$! at this point. We grabbed the baby and the bottle and bounced from empty room to empty room until we found a room that weighed the bottle at 2 pounds 15 ounces. Room 15.
I went out to the reception desk and requested a room switch. And, they were all eyebrows like um, no. And, I was I'M HERE FOR A $%#@! WEIGH-IN AND THE SCALE IN MY ROOM IS WRONG! There's nothing like crazy mom to get service people to take a step back and re-evaluate. Is this the hill we're all going to die on? They switched our room to room 15. The doctor came in. He said as long as P is above 10 pounds we're free to go on our merry way. We undressed her and weighed her. 10 pounds, 3.5 ounces. Whoopee! I can only imagine what she would have weighed in the initial room. And, I'm 1,000% sure there's some poor mom going through some poor weight crisis because her child was weighed in the other room.
After our glorious weigh in, savoring our new re-found sense of freedom, we headed out to meet B and Chef M for lunch. They had eaten, but it was a good chance for us to catch up with them. After lunch, P and I, mostly me, slept away the afternoon.
Happy Monday!
Cheers!
mouse
We spent a quiet weekend at home knowing that next weekend will be a busy one.
Saturday, we slept in. I think we all needed it.
Then, we went to get my driver's license renewed. I could have done it by mail, but I wanted a new picture. I was 55 pounds heavier in my old picture (before Weight Watchers) and thought the hour wait well worth the new picture. Now the big question, do I take my picture again in four years, since I'm still carrying around baby weight? Guess we see in four years.
For lunch, we went for Korean fried chicken. P had lunch compliments of our super convenient booth with high walls. Breastfeeding can be more convenient. It can definitely be less convenient. We're still doing it for now. My new goal: four months. We'll assess again at that point.
We came home. Mommy manicure time. Then, Mr. mouse stayed at home and played with P while I headed out for a wedding. One of my friends from work was getting married and I wanted to go. Since it looked like an adults only affair, we split for the evening. I'm glad I went. I miss some people who moved to a new department.
Sunday, we got up early to get ready for our dratted doctor's appointment. This time, armed with a real baby scale that we finally broke down and bought and a bottle of wine we weighed three times to calibrate our three scales (there's under a half ounce in question between the three scales), we went in loaded for bear. And, I mean loaded for bear. I'm sick and tired of the bullshit stress that comes from the bullshit weigh-ins that never seem to go well.
Okay. Baby: 10 pounds, 4 ounces. Wine: 2 pounds, 15 ounces.
As soon as we got into the exam room and the assistant left, we grabbed the bottle of wine to tare the scale. Neither Mr. mouse nor I had any interest in undressing P if the scale was off. What does the wine weigh? 2 pounds 7 ounces. Re-tared and re-weighed. 2 pounds 9 ounces. I'm ape @%#$! at this point. We grabbed the baby and the bottle and bounced from empty room to empty room until we found a room that weighed the bottle at 2 pounds 15 ounces. Room 15.
I went out to the reception desk and requested a room switch. And, they were all eyebrows like um, no. And, I was I'M HERE FOR A $%#@! WEIGH-IN AND THE SCALE IN MY ROOM IS WRONG! There's nothing like crazy mom to get service people to take a step back and re-evaluate. Is this the hill we're all going to die on? They switched our room to room 15. The doctor came in. He said as long as P is above 10 pounds we're free to go on our merry way. We undressed her and weighed her. 10 pounds, 3.5 ounces. Whoopee! I can only imagine what she would have weighed in the initial room. And, I'm 1,000% sure there's some poor mom going through some poor weight crisis because her child was weighed in the other room.
After our glorious weigh in, savoring our new re-found sense of freedom, we headed out to meet B and Chef M for lunch. They had eaten, but it was a good chance for us to catch up with them. After lunch, P and I, mostly me, slept away the afternoon.
Happy Monday!
Cheers!
mouse
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