With a Bullet.

I am deeply exhausted, so I’m doing it up bullet-style tonight:

• I took Simone to the pediatrician today for her check-up, bloodwork, and a flu shot. I feel like I spent several hours wrangling a feral, furious, drooling midget. Which I did, really.

• Have you ever noticed that a pediatrician’s office sounds like a field hospital in wartime? Strange screams floating through the hallways, the sounds of crying and desperate pleas for mercy: NOOOOO I DON’T WANT IT! NO SHOT! I DON’T WANT A SHOT NOOOOOOOO!

• We left the house at 3:15 and returned at 6:00, and I would estimate that about 15 minutes of the intervening hours were spent in the same room with a health care professional. I could have driven home, fed Simone, eaten a pudding cup, braided my hair into an elaborate coif, and driven back in the amount of time we spent waiting.

• Fun fact: Simone’s heels are so calloused from the myriad blood draws she had in the NICU that she didn’t even notice today’s heel stick.

• Not so fun fact: Despite not noticing the heel stick itself, she objected strenuously to being held down (by me!) while three vials of blood were milked from the wound. “Wow, she’s REALLY strong,” the poor tech kept saying.

• I once again managed to spill half a bottle of milk in the waiting room, due to my inability to remember that Dr. Brown’s bottles require the insertion of some sort of leak-preventing disk before being transported.

• You might think this will ensure that I remember said disk NEXT time. You would be grievously mistaken.

• However! Even without adjusting for her prematurity, Simone is now on the growth charts for weight: 15 pounds, seven ounces at nine months. Her head circumference had been on the chart for a while already. She has a big head.

• She also grew two inches last month.

• She has terrible, terrible eczema, and we have been ordered to butter her up with salves and such. I am hoping that these salves and unguents will get her to stop clawing at her itchy eyes. And scratching her ears until they bleed. And looking like a tiny leper whenever she gets angry enough that all the bumps on her skin flush red.

• Simone can sit unassisted now for brief snatches of time, and today she had been doing it for a minute or so when she tipped forward and gave herself a bloody nose. I was sitting right behind her, but did I catch her in time? No, I did not.

• I think the dried blood in her nostrils went a long way toward convincing the pediatrician of my superior mothering skills.

• Should I be buying tumbling mats for the floors before she really hurts herself?

• I’m out of things to say, and too tired to say them if I weren’t. Sweet dreams!