Nicole over at Taking Care Of Baby has a couple of recent posts about teaching her daughter to use the potty. Her daughter apparently likes sitting on the potty but is too fascinated with her recently acquired skill of WALKING!!! to really sit still for long. This reminded me of two things going on with Henry.
First, he still hasn’t pooped — we’re at 28 days here. The pediatrician seems unconcerned. “Well,” he said, palpating H.’s soft little belly, “he’s not distended or uncomfortable. Some people may tell you to stimulate the anus with a thermometer, but I discourage that, because you don’t want him to get used to that or you’ll be doing it all the time.” (!!) “So, you know… call me when he finally poops. Dr. X down the hall once had a kid who didn’t poop for 30 days.” Unspoken but implied: somewhere in that practice is a big board of weird cases, and he wants to knock Dr. X out of the “non-pooping breastfed baby” box.
Second, H. has recently learned to roll, which now occupies a good amount of his leisure time and distracts him from the thing we would really like him to learn, which is sitting up. Benefits of sitting up:
- He can sit on his rug and play with toys, but
- he can still see us, and
- sitting up is not a mode of locomotion.
Whereas benefits of rolling are harder to pin down:
- Opportunity to sing “Log” from Ren and Stimpy.
I injured my back recently and went to the doctor, which was a weird experience on many levels, not least because the doctor I was able to get in to see was about 130 years old and insisted on doing a “new patient visit,” as though we were establishing a relationship and I was going to come back to this practice many times and was not a traveling hobo who would never pass this way again.
But after all the “take a deep breath” and the height-weight measurements and the hernia check (my balls, your hand, thirty seconds of embarrassment!) and suspicion that I might be a drug-seeking addict and the grumbling about my not having had a previous primary care physician, we finally got to my back. “Classic lumbar strain,” he said dismissively. “Don’t bend over or lift anything; it’ll be better by next week.” Of course, since I have a seven-month-old, he might as well have added, “But continue to work out with an 18-lb. kettlebell.”
Finally, our little man has recently been doing something we call “Your 7 a.m. Bear Alarm,” wherein, without waking up, he starts making loud “Annnnnnh, annnnnnh, annnnnnh” noises. Not sure what that’s about. We have him unswaddled right now, but we may go back to entombing him in his Woombie; it seems to reduce the grumbling and flailing. (You can flail when you have your own bed, kid.)