It is 4:38 on Sunday afternoon, and I think I have prematurely come down with a case of the Mondays. There’s just not enough weekend, you know? I never felt that way before we had Ellie. I feel like we spend our weekends scurrying to and fro, trying to get everything done we didn’t get done during the week, like installing baby gates and getting groceries and preparing taxes and sorting through the teetering pile of mail on the kitchen island to make sure we haven’t forgotten any bills amongst the magazines that just aren’t getting read. We were supposed to go watch our friends’ two little boys get baptized this morning and then visit with some other friends in the same town, and we didn’t end up going because the roads here seemed really bad this morning, and even with an extra unplanned empty day, I still feel like there just wasn’t enough time.
Anyway, enough about that. I took Ellie to the doctor on Friday morning, because she is a very wee sort of baby and our doctor wants to keep an eye on her to ensure she is not suffering any ill effects from her wee-ness. Which she isn’t, of course, and he is pleased enough with her recent pudgening that I think we’ve been released from the every-two-month monitoring, which is nice. Our doctor is one of the supervisors of a teaching clinic, so we often see a resident in addition to our doc (it’s just like it is on TV, where the resident meets with you and then presents his recommendation to the supervising doctor, who will agree or disagree depending on the accuracy of the diagnosis, which is good because sometimes you may be on the verge of being sent home with strep throat because the resident didn’t want to run a 5-minute test) and we have seen the same resident for the past couple of visits. I really like him — he’s friendly and knowledgeable and has a great bedside manner — and he seems to really like Ellie. (I think he had a very bad experience with his first baby well visit. At our last appointment, he kept remarking about how social and friendly she was, and I overheard the supervising doctor say to him in the hallway, “Way better than LAST TIME, huh?”) Anyway, he is very taken with our wee little baby, and has said no fewer than three times at each of our appointments that she is VERY CUTE. Can you believe it? Doctor diagnosed cuteness! I know every mom wants to think their baby is the height of adorability, but this time it is actually BACKED UP BY SCIENCE.
We headed to Starbucks after the appointment, where we encountered a small handful of people who are very likely concerned for my sanity. I went in to get a tea, and discovered Ellie had a bit of a Code Brown Situation, so we high-tailed it into the bathroom to Take Care of Things. While we were in there I was doing what I do all day long, maintaining a constant stream of chit-chat in Ellie’s direction (after Starbucks we’ll go home and you can have some lunch and take a nap, maybe some Elmo after your nap is over, I think we still have the Sesame Street featuring Paul Rudd on the DVR, Mommy thinks he is really handsome and charming, I think maybe I’ll get an iced tea this morning, I drank so many iced teas from Starbucks while I was pregnant with you, okay I think we’re finally done here, seriously what did I feed you this morning, etc.) and opened the door upon finishing up to discover there was a line of at least 4 people standing there with twinkling eyes, laughing at me. I do not care for their amusement! They will all feel very silly the day she is diagnosed with advanced language skills.