I hope the nurse didn't see the look on my face when she told me that Gwennan's weight was in the ninety-fifth percentile. I want to be one of those women that everyone describes as gracious, kind and gentle. So far, I'm not. I'm the person you want on your team for the pointless game of Taboo that you just have to win, not yet the person you call when a bunch of little crises have escalated into a terrible day. But I want to be that person.
Back to the nurse - she was new to pediatrics, and my tolerance for incompetence was pretty thin this morning. I'm going to blame it on my third trip in two days to the DMV. Why does the government make it so difficult to pay them? Stores make it so easy - they advertise stuff they want you to buy, hire people that smile more than once a month and graciously let me use Tim's card since we have the same last name. Why must I fill out so many forms just to pay taxes?! Then the clerk warned me that I'd better not forge his signature on a legal document. Like I'm going to stand in front of a government employee with a rent-a-cop standing behind me and illegally sign over a car title to myself. What the heck?!
Again, the nurse - My daughter weighs 11 lbs 3 oz at her 4 month check-up. I know newborns who weigh that much. How could she possibly be in the 95th percentile?
I'm on a tare this afternoon. Sorry for the negativity. (Did I mention that the house smells like gasoline after Tim left the truck running in the garage? I'm not mad, Honey. It's just one more thing.) Hopefully the baby pictures will make up for my ranting.