Wee fat boy aka my buddy and his tum (5)

Eli is a fat boy, in spirit.

I’m a wee fat boy in my spirit animal

In reality, his BMI is a about the 5th percentile. I do not like percentile talk. I’ve always viewed it as some kind of twisted mom contest. A measure of normal when the reality is all little bbs are different little people who develop on their own personal timelines based on a variety of factors.

So back off!

However, with his CF, percentile talk is a necessity of sorts.

A bigger baby or child or adult — and by bigger I mean at least the 50th percentile BMI wise — can better withstand assaults on his or her health of all kinds — so my friends at the CF clinic and Children’s have told me.

Eli weights 16.6 pounds. He’s put on about a pound in the last two months. He’s almost 8 months old. To me, this is huge! Big boy’s in 12-month jammies already, for Pete’s sake. Laila weighed 18 pounds at a year. She was so teeny weeny she nearly fell off the growth chart. That’s just her. She’s my wee miss, and getting her to eat is a fight every day. Gee, wonder where she gets it?

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Yard work.

Oh, here’s where: My husband was working in the yard today.

He got carried away and next made us spaghetti! He attacked that spaghetti like a wild beast.

Then he’s all: “This is the first time I’ve eaten.”

And I’m like, “What?? That is so unhealthy. Why didn’t you eat?”

“I forgot.”

Who forgets to eat? Seriously, who? That would be Mark. And Laila.

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Getting Laila to eat today: These pb&j dinos were perilously close to a shark-infested yogurt watering hole. Laila was nominally impressed.

Lunch today: These pb&j dinos were perilously close to a shark-infested yogurt watering hole. Laila was nominally impressed.

I could never forget a meal. I got to sleep dreaming about breakfast. Mark has about 53 nicknames for me and one of them is “snacks,” cause that’s what I’m always thinking about. Food, wonderful food. Liz Lemon style.

Luckily Eli seems to take after me. Oh when he’s hungry he let’s you know. He’s got a Howard Dean scream! I gotta get it on camera.

Any how, Eli had his appointment this week, Wednesday.

His lungs sound great! He is no longer crummy from his lingering cold-turned-lung-infection. The only concern is his small size. What tempers this concern is that he comes from small people – Mark’s people. My people are more like medium people who easily become bigger people when we do things like cast a dreamy, sideways gaze at chocolate cake.

I got a list of fattening foods he can eat from his sweet nutritionist, Danielle.

Our calorie goal per day is about 890.

Mark and I go for the budget-unfriendly baby organic GMO-free mooshy food that comes in space pack form. You know, we live pretty minimally, but when it comes to food, I am high-maintenance — in case you missed that in the above “baby organic non GMO” description.

I like the space pack baby food because:

1. If he really likes it he sucks it right out of the pack

2. The blends are really healthy and combine things like veggies with fruit and grain or meat with fruit and veg, etc.

3. Ella’s in particular has high-calorie little packs that are 100 to 130 calories each.
4. I like the calories listed on the back
5. I like the time-saving element provided by my yuppie baby space pack food.

I also moosh up bananas and avacado and add a little butter to just about anything that goes with butter for him. I was advised by his nutritionist to start with a teaspoon and go up from there. A butter overload can give a baby the runs. Tonight, I blended pureed pasta with butter, salt and water. Eli hated it. He screamed after every bite. I have to hide his meats and some veggies and new stuff like the pasta in the fruit blends.

It totally works.

Babies are so gullible.

If any CF moms – or mom of any child who needs to be fattened — has ideas for a picky 3-year-old and/or a baby who needs a lot of calories, please share them with me!

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