I was rushing about trying to get ready to go out and meet my Aunt “Where are my shoes…Oh” Rory has spewed in them. I guess it was my fault for leaving them below his highchair! Never mind. I wet wipe them and move on, as is my motto! Rory was only in his vest so far as clothes are put on when we are actually ready to leave. The doorbell rings. Oh God, it’s the health visitor. Well, the health nurse actually. Now she is a lovely lady but it always makes me a little nervous. She will think I don’t dress him. Shit. I hope he doesn’t feel cold. Oh no, he does. I fling open the door whilst covering Rory with my scarf. “Come in, come in. How lovely to see you!” I’m overcompensating. Shut up Karen. She is not in the least bit fazed by my scantily clad son and is happy to chat away to him and then we get him weighed. “Oh that’s lovely. He’s put on 2oz since his last weigh in”. 2oz!!!! That’s nothing. She checks his height and it appears he has taken quite a stretch. She is pleased. I’m already catastrophising. Am I starving him? Is he normal? Is he shrinking? I ask her if she thinks his arms are too short for his body. She says no. So that’s one less thing to worry about.
I then ask her about volumes of food to be consumed. Yesterday I cut Rory off after what I determined a good amount of food and gave him a feed myself as I didn’t want to make him sick. She reassures me it’s fine, and to be led by Rory. If he’s hungry then to keep feeding him.
I give this a try when she leaves. Brocolli, sweet potato, butternut squash, pear, apple, parsnip and mashed potato all get ploughed through in record time. Admittedly , they are not massive portion sizes. A mini muffin size portion of each, but still. It’s impressive! He clearly loves his food. He gets angry at the speed at which I feed him. It’s just not quick enough for his liking. I think I’m going to need to buy a bigger fridge!