I Ain't Sayin' She's a Gold Digger... Lunch with the Elios.
Chris thinks that I secretly like rap music. I've been trying to explain to him that it's not that I like it; I just can't help but know some of the lyrics because, well, when you're raising teenagers, you pick these things up. So we went out to lunch today to celebrate Reagan and Connor's good visit to the pediatrician, and somehow the rap conversation ended with Chris using Ror's power ranger doll to do a little dance and song number--- "I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger, but she ain't messin' with no broke ranger..." It's not enough that people stare at us for having four kids under the age of five; he's got to make it a musical show, too.
So on to the stats-- Connor is right smack in the middle of the percentile range for weight and height, finally reaching the forty pound mark! Reagan is tipping the scales in the 5th percentiles for height and weight, weighing in at a whopping seven pounds, thirteen ounces. Chris and I cracked up when we realized that our goddaughter, who was born TWO DAYS ago, already weighs two pounds more than our one-month old. So evidently both Riley Kate AND Reagan have taken a cue from Grandmom in the petiteness department. Ror and Riley Kate have their well visits soon, and I'll report where they stand when we find out.
Connor was deeply, deeply offended by the pediatrician's requests today, feeling that the visit was just all-around undignified. He was very businesslike at the beginning, almost enthusiastic in complying with her requests to stick out his tongue, allow his blood pressure to be taken, and look straight ahead while she examined his eyes. However, when she needed to check his balance, reflexes, and posture, she asked him to "hop like a bunny." He stood there and said, "I don't think so; no thanks." So she said, "Hop like a power ranger." He rolled his eyes and replied, " They don't really hop; they flip, and I'm sorry, but I can't flip." After five more minutes of cajoling, he turned to me and said, "This is ridiculous." Dr. Ruiz said she'd never had a child comply with the actual medical side of the exam and then become belligerent for the "hop like a bunny" portion of the visit. After he flat-out let her know that there would be no hopping no matter how she phrased it, she moved on to asking him to run and touch the door and then run back. He turned, gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes, and then calmly walked to the door, touched it as though he couldn't believe he was withstanding this humiliation, and then came back.
During the entire time the doctor was examining Connor and Reagan, Rory was eyeing her warily and repeatedly commanding her not to hurt Connor or Reagan. When the nurse pulled out a measuring tape to measure Reagan's head circumference, Ror gave her a warning look (which she did not heed) before shouting, "GET THAT OFF MY SISTER!" In the waiting room before the exam, Ror marched back and forth in front of Reagan's car seat, barking at the other children in the waiting room, "This is my Reagan, and NO, you can't touch her! Get back! Get back from my Reagan!" None of my kids have ever been threatened or physically attacked, and they don't watch scary television shows, so I have no idea where Ror's suspicion comes from. He sees most strangers as potential babynappers and other children as little gremlins just waiting for an opportunity to hurt one of his sisters.
Despite Ror's rudeness in the waiting room, we got lots of compliments from other parents, who kept asking our secrets for having raised Connor to be such a polite child. I basked in their praise while trying to distract them from the fact that Ror was verbally berating their children for standing too close to his sister. Connor was walking around the office offering to share his new action figure with all of the other children and introducing himself and offering to shake hands with anyone who was willing.
Well, now that I've rambled about the other kids, it's time for me to humbly admit to previous harsh judgments of Riley Kate. As family and friends know, we were quite worried for sometime that she was becoming, uh... well, you know...a little, um....okay, we thought she was turning into a mean brat. But apparently it was just a phase. For the past four days, she has won the "good listener" and "good helper" award for each day (as if normal sibling rivalry isn't enough, I make them compete for awards), and has just morphed into the most loving, sweet, enthralling child I could ever imagine. I mean, she's not exactly thrilled with ME, (after all, I am the witch who brought home a baby that sucks up so much of my time), but she absolutely adores Chris, and when I'm not holding the baby, she's pretty fond of me, too. As a matter of fact, she's taken the term "Attachment Parenting" to the extreme-- she's decided that she must be physically connected to Chris at all times. Today when I watched him try to eat shrimp fettucine with one arm because she was hanging on to the other arm for dear life, I realized that someday she's going to be one of those women who say things like, "I'm not in a rush to get married; I mean, I'm only forty-five, so it's not like I need to leave the nest yet. I'm not overly dependent on my parents; I just haven't found anyone as wonderful as my father yet..."
Reagan continues to be just the sweetest little baby ever, eliciting comments from me that I'm sure are obnoxious to everyone else. I think even Chris rolls his eyes a little bit when I say things like, "She just looked straight at me, Chris, and I could tell that she was HAPPY. Her mouth looked like this [I demonstrate] and her eyes looked like this [I demonstrate again].... Oh, wait! You looked away, and she did it again! It wasn't so much a pensive look, more like a content look. Satisfied, that's it. She's satisfied. And curious. She looks curious...." I can't help it; it's probably the deep fatigue and haze of day and night blurring together that stop me just short of understanding why everyone else isn't as interested in the thoughts and expressions of my newborn as I am.
Today is Reagan's one-month birthday; check your inboxes and the photo website (link at right) for pictures marking the event! :)
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