Inadequacy

I've read quite a few blogs in the last week or two that have led me to believe that the Inadequacy Fairy is alive and well in the world of motherhood. And though I may not talk about it often, the I.F. is a frequent visitor of mine. She not only paid me a visit today, but I feel like she stamped me straight on the forehead with a bright red "Inadequate Mother" sign.

It was Sophie and Carson's Well Checks today. Carson passed with flying colors. The doctor was not only pleased, but amused as she watched him interact with his siblings. She saw him respond to his name, and loved it when he kept visually checking in with me every time he interacted with her. She pointed out that that was his way of feeling out the situation. As long as I seemed okay with it, so was he. It was nice to hear her pass him off as 'great' since I feel like he's living in a constant state of neglect. A few weeks ago I realized that he "talks" to the TV when Barney's on way more than he talks to me. I've been trying to make a conscious effort to actually play with him more and some days its easier than others. He's 8 months old now and weighs 17.5 lbs, 28 inches long. He has been crawling for awhile. Last week he started pulling himself up to furniture and has even tried to let go a time or two. He's a fantastic baby, always happy, and very easy.

Then we talked about Sophie. I love this little girl like nothing else. She is loving, bossy, funny, messy...'Sugar and Spice'. But as most of you know, she's a big girl and though she's been a big girl for awhile, her weight gain is not slowing down. She wasn't a big baby, she only weighed 7 lbs, 8 0z. It wasn't until she was aroung a year old that she started getting chubby. During all of her check-ups with her regular doctor and her kidney specialists, I always brought up her weight and they always told me she was just fine. Her last appointment was in November and at 19 months she was 38 lbs. That put her in the 90th% for her weight, but she was also in the 90% for her heighth. Once again, they assured me that she was okay. I've been worrying for the past couple months that it was going to catch up to her. And today it did. At 23 months she weighs 42 lbs., just 3 lbs lighter than Spencer. And though I love to squeeze her and laugh at her utter cuteness, the fact of the matter is that she's stayed in the 93% for her height but she is now off the charts for her weight. She's now classified as 'obese'.

And as a mom, that stings. A lot.

We talked about her eating habits. We talked about practicing stricter portion control. But the doctor was also very open to my opinion, which for now, is that I feel like I can take responsibility for a few of the extra pounds, but I don't feel like her weight is a true reflection of her eating habits. We're not a house with chips, and fruit snacks, and juice a plenty. Don't get me wrong, we've been known to eat brownies for breakfast but I also try to serve vegetables with every dinner. She's like most toddlers, she eats messy and spurratic (is that a real word?). It's hard to sometimes gage how much she's really eating when half of it is on her hands, her shirt, or the floor. Some times she won't touch her food, other times, we have to take her plate away from her, or hide the cookies, or watch her throw herself on the floor when we tell her she can't have 2 whole banana's. Yogurt is her most requested food, but she thinks that the word 'snack' means something sugary. So am I kidding myself? I'm in denial here? Where does the fault lie?

We took her to the lab to have some blood work done. It's not a fun thing to have to hand the technician a form that lists 'obesity' as the reason for the blood work. It will take a couple days for the results to come back. I feel like it really comes down to something either being wrong with her, or me. Neither one feels good.

I felt like some progress was made tonight at dinner as I carefully planned out our meal. I got her to eat second's of her carrots before I gave her a little more meat, she only ate half of a roll. We don't usually have 'dessert' but we unfortunately had a german chocolate cake in the house, which is pretty unusual. We agreed that she could have just a little piece for dessert since Spencer could stand to put some weight on and he was dying for a piece. Again, everything went smoothly. They had their pieces, no one cried for more, read some books, and then were sent off to bed. Or so I thought. Apparently, while Jason was getting Spencer's bed ready, and I was typing this, she quietly helped herself to a few fistfuls of the last piece of stupid cake.

We ended the night trying to explain to an almost 2 year old that cake will make her tummy hurt and I'm again left wondering, am I really just fooling myself? Is there really a bright red stamp across my forehead that reads "Inadequate Mother" because in the department of 'health and well-being of children' I'm getting a big, fat F?