How to Be Crazy: Hoarding

While out for Ainsley’s two month checkup, I walked past this vehicle.  The picture does not do it justice.   It is piled to the roof with stuff.  Not just junk, not just trash, but  anything that would fit into the car.   Looking through the windshield, I saw that the garbage in the front passenger seat has started to creep into the driver’s seat, and the plastic bags/fast food empties have a person-shaped hole in them for the driver.

What drives someone to this level?  Sure, I’ve thrown a few things in the back seat; I’ve found french fries a month after they went missing.  When does it go from that to having to shove the garbage out of the way to drive?  And forget checking the blind spot.

I wanted to stick around to see what kind of person drove the vehicle, but it would not have made me feel better.  Plus, poor little Ainsley had just had a tough appointment: her first vaccinations.  She went from content little girl to dark purple and screaming in one second flat.  After we redressed her and comforted her for a few minutes, she was OK, but I wanted to go home quickly so I could rock her more.  She’s been fussy and sleepy all day since.

She’s gained three ounces since her visit Friday.  Everybody’s all relieved and happy, including her new pediatrician.  Well, everyone but me.  She’s only gained a net of nine ounces in 30 days (she should have gained 20-30).  I am feeling good about her new bottle and about her progress this week, but it doesn’terase her painfully slow growth.  The doctor did say that a formula supplement would not help things; that indicated to me that he’s confident she’s doing well as is.

Neither the doctor nor Carlton will let me have her weighed in a week.  Where’s the crime in a weight check?  If she’s doing great, I will feel much better.  If she’s the same, well, I won’t be any more worried than I already am.  I do think that the new bottle is working wonders, but I want hard data.

Enough of this.  Off to feed the kid.