feeding
Snack!
Fork
Vignettes
Every night around eight-fifteen, eight-thirty, I take the Girl for her bath. “Bath” is one of the few baby signs we use consistently, and last night, she provided humorous evidence that she truly understands the sign. I came out of the bathroom after preparing her bath and she was looking at one of her favorite books while sitting at the bottom of the six stairs that separates the upper and lower portions of our split-level home. “L,” I called. She looked up, and I began making the waving my arms as if splashing the water. “Halapu ciapu!” I called out, Polish for “splish-splash.” She tossed the book aside, pulled herself on her feet quickly, held out her arms, and smiled hugely.
Every morning around three, the Girl wakes up hungry and wet. I stumble into her room to change her diaper; K heads downstairs to prepare a bottle; the Girl usually just cries. Lately, though, she’s been increasingly calm as I begin the process, and last night, she remained calm throughout the whole change. She would start to get fussy but I managed to calm her with some reassuring words in my sleepy, calm voice and a gentle stroke of her cheek. She didn’t break into hysterics even when K entered.
Feeding the Girl
Solids
We’ve entered the wild, wonderful world of solids,
which means a number of things:
- It takes a little more time to prepare for a feeding;
- Feeding is more labor intensive;
- Post-poop clean-up is more labor intensive; and,
- Preference begins to rear its finicky head.
On the other hand, feeding is more amusing and more conducive to photography.
Kanał Part II
L, most unexpectedly, also has her own little canal. It too is singularly effective at channeling .
L doesn’t do much of anything without putting her full effort into it, and pooping is no exception. But with pooping, she has a particular gift. Without some much as a raised eyebrow, L can expel her cottage-cheesy poop with such energy that, upon impacting the diaper, it follows the path of least resistance, right up her back.
A good poop means that she leaves wet marks mid-way up her back. A spectacular poop goes three-fourths of the way up to her shoulder blades. Her personal best is just below her shoulder blades.
It’s spectacular. I had no idea babies could achieve something as wondrous as pooping halfway up their backs. And when she’s done, there’s a little mischievous smile that, though I know is from relief, seems like it just might also have a bit of pride mixed in.
Limits and Liquids
We went to visit family yesterday. This meant a lot of time in the car, which meant, for L, a lot of time in the car seat.
We discovered, much to our surprise, that L doesn’t really like the car seat as much as tolerate it. Imagine — she doesn’t like being strapped into a virtually immovable position for hours on end.
We think liquids might help, because she seemed to cry much less violently during that last hour when she was working on a bottle of tea.
In Poland, in summer, potatoes — those ever-present tenants of the Polish table — are always served with fresh dill. All told, I had to scrape of pounds of it during my years there, and no one could understand that I just don’t like the stuff.
“Tea!? You give your 5-month-old tea?” I can just hear the voices now. Well, to call it “tea” is really a stretch. It’s a special granulated herbal concoction J brought from Poland with her. It’s made specially for infants, and it’s made from dill and aniseed. To my nose, it stinks like the dickens, because I don’t like either one. But the girl likes it, and it eases her stomach, and it will undoubtedly ease time in the car.
After all, K and I buy green teas for the road. Why shouldn’t she have something to drink to?
Maybe it’s just one of those paradigms you slip into when your baby is breastfed. Additional drink is like additional food — unnecessary. What we’re learning is that that is only true — duh — for the first four or five months.