After Mom took the twins to the children’s hospital for their first helmet appointment, where she was offered some very candid comments, I wasn’t sure what to expect from their second baby helmet appointment. Will the helmet-fitter also tell us that Griffin has a “giant” head? Megg had spoken to her on the phone and told her about the warm reception she was given by the doctors, and the helmet-fitter said she was aware of this doctor’s choice of words. I like her already.
We arrived at their facility on a frigid Saturday morning, There were just a few cars parked out front. I pictured families pulling up and getting out of their cars with their funky head-shaped babies. When we walked into the suite and found the waiting room full of baby toys, I knew they meant business.
I put down Griffin’s carrier and took him out so he could play with the toys, or more likely than not, just lay on a mat and drool.
As I was grabbing some toys for him to slobber on, Megg stopped me and told me not to let him touch the toys with hands or put anything in his mouth, which is basically all he is capable of doing at this age. So we sat there for a few minutes, looking at all of the toys, but not actually using them.
At one point, a mom came out of the helmet-fitting room to grab something from her double stroller. I figured she must have been a mom of twins, which is always a welcome sight, because it lets me see how others are getting along.
Is she too, wearing a shirt that has been spit up on twice today? How many diapers has she changed today? Are her kids sleeping through the night yet? These are the questions that run through my mind when I see another parent of twins. I always like to compare notes with them, but this mom in particular didn’t seem too friendly, so I didn’t really want to talk twin-strategy with her because I was afraid she’d bring me down.
The helmet-maker, Allison, came out of the room and was walking to another room, but suddenly stopped, pointed to Griffin and said, “Ooh, he’s got turtle colic hair.” Then she continued walking as if we had known that fact all along. I asked Megg what turtle colic was, and she told me that Allison had said torticollis, not turtle colic. She said it was a common issue with twins and it’s when they have a slouch in their posture and one of their shoulders sort of droops.
Wow. The woman walked by us and just noticed this by the kid’s hair? She’s good.
Then our time in the office arrived.
We walked in and saw a fancy machine that looked sort of like a tanning bed with no lid. We talked to Allison and she told us the plan. The tanning bed machine would be used to take a scan of the babies’ heads and from there, she would identify the issues that needed to be addressed.
Megg brought up a study from the Netherlands that she found online, which said that helmets don’t actually fix anything, and Allison quickly debunked the study and explained the flaws in their clinical trials.
She already knew of this exact study and knew its shortcomings? She’s really good.
Griffin’s up first.
Allison put a stocking cap on his gargantuan, misshaped melon and he instantly looked cooler. We snapped some photos, like crazy parents do, and cracked some jokes. Thank God we have a doctor who can laugh at our kid with us.
They put him in the tanning bed device and told us that he needs to stay still so they can get a clear image of his head. Well, Griffin hasn’t stayed still since he was taken out of Mom’s stomach, screaming with his hands held over his head. Allison put her hand over his face and held a rubber bear that lit up with all kinds of colors, and Griffin was instantly motionless. We need one of those bears.
The image of his head came up on the computer screen and she pointed out all of the issues while explaining why each needed to be corrected. Apparently his face is a little “droopy”, which could cause vision, nasal, and dental problems down the road, but the helmets will fix all of those things. Woohoo!
Scout wasn’t as impressed with the magical bear, but an image was eventually taken of her head too, while sporting the stylish stocking cap.
Allison said that her head was wider than Griffin’s and told us that the helmet will help fix her “Frankenstein” forehead. We hadn’t realized that her forehead protruded, but we were glad to hear that it would be fixed, and that she wouldn’t have to live the life of a girl cursed with a neanderthal face.
Helmets will be in soon and we’re making plans for some sweet helmet artwork!
I have no idea idea how it happens, but it happens, and it happens too frequently. Our babies’ socks just vanish. Or more specifically, one sock vanishes. It would probably be better if both socks just up and vanished because I probably wouldn’t even realize it, but I’m not that lucky.
How does it happen?
I’m sure the whole issue is worse for us because we have two babies and twice the amount of socks to keep track of, but I imagine that parents of singletons struggle with this very real issue too. In fact, I know they struggle with it because we received a basket of hand-me-down socks from my gracious sister in law a few months before the babies were born. We washed and dried the socks before tucking them away in the babies’ room, but when we were matching pairs (or lack thereof), we probably had a 3:1 ratio of matching socks and those socks who lost their counterpart. I didn’t think much of it at the time and I just hoped that she would bring the missing socks, but she never did. They were gone forever.
Two socks come off one baby, two socks go into the laundry pile, two socks go into the washing machine, two socks (probably) go into the dryer, and then one sock comes out.
The lint trap yields no missing sock, so I run outside and hope that it was spit out of the dryer’s exhaust hose, but no dice.
It makes no sense.
To be fair, they can sometimes be found at the bottom of footy pajamas, but this comes nowhere close to accounting for all of them.
Until a logical explanation can be given, the smartest course of action is to just buy plain white socks for the babies.
Will they still disappear? Of course. But at least we won’t notice.