I’m sitting here at my desk wearing a puke covered bathrobe – the best thing about it is that it’s a white robe which is now complemented smell wise and aesthestic wise with brown splotches of vomit. Are you thinking my robe was covered with puke because I got crazy drunk and am walking around my house dazed and hung-over with the remnants of a late night Kung Pao Chinese food binge after my night of debauchery? Sorry to disappoint but no, I’m covered in chocolate Pediasure. Sadie, who recently weighed in at a plump 18 lbs. 11 1/2 oz (a month ago she was 17 lbs 10 oz), has proceeded to throw up every day since her weigh-in.
If she weren’t 18 months-old I’d swear she was bulimic. She’s all, “Yeah, you’re putting me in the 12 month pants now but I know I could still get into the 9 month pair. Do not throw them out. I need them for incentive!” I think she refuses to drink Pediasure not because it tastes like ass but she somehow knows how many calories are in it. Maybe I’ll make up some labels that say Pediasure Lite! Now with less fat for babies trying to watch their figures! And see if she’ll partake. Then when she gains weight I’ll laugh and say “Ha ha! I totally fooled you!” thus ruining any trust we’ve built up in our short time together. But bulimia would explain why she always cries like a maniac when we try to put her on the scale. I can relate.
Sometimes it feels like just when I get into a good place about Sadie’s weight and I’m really Zen and telling you guys how I hardly even think about her weight, she goes on a hunger strike or a run of puking and pulls the rug out from under my sanity. Plus, even though she put on a pound in a month, she is stubbornly refusing to get any taller. She’s 28 inches. If she doesn’t gain a few inches by the end of the summer we are being sent for sure to see an endocrinologist. Whatever. Listen, I know a lot of short people and they seem to have no trouble getting dates or buying clothes (sure the cost of hemming is a bitch but still…). Plus, I’ve seen that TLC show with all the Little People and they pull more tail than most single normal height friends I have. So her height can suck it. At least that’s what I’m telling myself today. Try to tolerate me when I melt down about this in a few months. Right now I have bigger fish to fry like all the hurling.
Can I be really selfish here for a moment? Great. Besides the worry that her puking causes, can I just complain about how gross it is to constantly clean throw up laden pillows, crib bumpers, blankets and couch cushions? There is no amount of upholstery cleanser or Shout Out to mask the smell of lingering vomit. Just FYI if you wanted to come over, wear clothes you don’t care a lot about.