I used to listen to the song “Shots” by LMFAO and totally be a part of that world.  “Patron on the rocks everybody’s doing shots!”  I was wonderful with tequila shots. Salt and lime please!  Now?  Shots only bring me anxiety. Not the tequila sort either. The kind my poor child needs every two months and received yesterday.
I hate needles to begin with so I can’t handle my daughter getting them jabbed into her chunky thighs.  I mean I know they’re necessary because I don’t really want Charlie walking around with a case of polio or HepB, but can’t we figure out a way to vaccinate babies without sharp objects?  At two months she got 3 needles, at 4 months she  thankfully only needed two. This time I was prepared and medicated her before we went to the doctor. I’m sure there are people out there who are astonished at my behavior, but I have a nice big glass of shut the hell up waiting for you right here.  Eric comes with me to hold her arms down because I literally cannot handle it. I sit in the corner with my bra open waiting to feed her after the screaming. She did that scream where no sound comes out for a few seconds before the wail of all wails erupts from her tiny lungs. I hate it!!!  However, 20 minutes after the needles she passed out for TWO HOURS and then woke up happy as a clam. THEN she went to sleep at 7 pm and slept until 7:30 this morning with only one wake up, so there’s that.  Am I a bad mom for enjoying that side effect of the vaccines?  Don’t answer that. 
My little boobala weighs 14.7 pounds and is 25 inches long. She’s going to be tall like her daddy. Her head is also small as fuck so she’s like her daddy in that respect too. No complaints here! That tiny head didn’t destroy my lady bits nearly half as bad as a bigger head would have.  Let’s do a shot to small baby heads! 

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