Quickly

(Although my computer does hardly anything quickly these days, as it's slow as molasses in the dead of winter. And that's pretty slow. . .)

As expected, Laura is as tiny as can be at 11 lbs, 6 oz (not even in the 5th percentile) and 24 and a half inches long (again, not even in the 5th percentile). Her doctor isn't concerned, though, since she's steadily gained weight and has met all of her milestones. It should come as no huge surprise that I produce small babies, I suppose. She got lots and lots of shots, which she HATED.

(Sidenote: Will was oddly calm about his shots as a baby. It actually made me question whether or not he felt pain. [Which goes to show you that I worried about anything and everything with him.] He also outweighed Laura by all of SEVEN  AND A HALF POUNDS at this point in his life. This means that he gained all seven and a half of those lbs between five and six months. I know. It sounds unbelievable but it's true.)

My teeny weeny baby, though, has been a little under the weather and it wasn't helped by those awful pokes. She was up at 3:30 this morning to eat but she had a fever and was so out of sorts that she couldn't calm down enough to eat. She kept doing this strange startle-type thing, almost like hiccuping (which I now realize was her trying to catch her breath through her already stuffy nose made worse from all the crying). This was, as you might imagine, pretty worrisome. I had to restrain myself from going downstairs after I'd taken her to bed with us and Google away. She was finally calm enough to eat at around five but she was still not her normal self.

In fact, she spent most of today sleeping, a lot of it in my arms, which hasn't happened in a few months and I caught myself watching her like a hawk, waiting for any tiny sign that something was amiss. This afternoon, her fever was gone and she was finally able to smile some and even give me a few squeals of delight. Everything seems to be fine but we're still more than a little unsettled by those stressful few hours last night.  I hate shots, despite their necessity.

In a related vein, Will has brought home some type of preschool plague and pestilence and it has been methodically infecting each of us, starting with our children and most likely ending with us. So far I've escaped with merely a sore throat, so I'll count myself lucky for now. Will is home from school today to rest and recuperate some before going back next week. (We're really falling apart here!) He had school pictures yesterday and I'm sure the runny nose was a nice touch. He appears to be on the mend, though, since he's spent the last ten minutes riding his too-small toddler tricycle around the living room and into his bedroom at warp speed.

And in an unrelated vein, Will is starting swimming lessons next week. These are hardcore rescue swimming lessons where they are taught what to do in the water in case of an emergency. So no fun splashing and singing. I'm kind of nervous to watch this unfold but I know that the benefits far outweigh any negatives. I'll keep you posted . . .

I hope everyone is well and thank you for those of you who've written me nice little notes and emails about the ol' blog and/or about parenting in general. I enjoy writing about my babies and I'm glad they have all of you to read and care about them, regardless of how close--or far away--you may be.

And a happy belated 1st birthday to George, my good friend Lucy's youngest! I hope there was much cake and various other forms of fun to be had . . .

I guess this didn't actually turn out to be so quick after all. I'm kind of wordy. It's the English major in me, I guess.