deja vu
i sit and listen.
i don’t want to listen but i can’t not listen, ya know?
this knowledge of a struggle going on in another room… you have been dismissed from it, but you know the tension exists.
it’s still there. and so you listen… like i listen.
you can’t un-know something.
so i write.
**********
we’ve been down this road before. granted, it was a while ago. sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. but we’ve been here before. we know the path… the curves that the road takes, the rocks that we have stumbled over before.
and now we’re here again.
jackson’s eating is our nemesis.
it’s been getting worse over the last couple of months, and, as always, it’s easy to be distracted by other things… holidays, school, trips, ANYTHING. but it’s gotten worse.
that’s the conclusion i reached tonight as i watched him digest only 4 bites of chicken.
and that’s what i said to paul at the dinner table.
“this is getting worse.”
**********
occasionally i get an email from someone who came across my blog by googling something about pediatric feeding disorders or breast feeding allergy related stuff. when i am contacted, there is a moment of relief.
sick relief.
i say “sick” because upon the initial contact, i am instantaneously brought into their world of pediatric food refusal. and it’s sad. to know of another parent out there who is struggling and wanting so desperately to understand WHY THEIR KID WON’T EAT.
it’s fucking maddening.
and i’m sad to learn of this affecting someone else’s life.
but then i am aware that someone else out there is struggling with the same thing we struggle(d) with.
and i’m not alone.
so then i become grateful. thankful that my words in this place resonated with someone enough that they felt compelled to share a bit about them and their story.
a connection is made.
**********
and then i’m brought back to the here and now. i’m brought back to the fight that we fight with jackson. the feeding issues that have existed from the very start. the history of our under-weight child.
the feeding issues that took this blog from being a baby book of sorts to truly becoming an outlet for me, allowing me to have a voice in moments of desperation.
shit, it’s crazy when i think back on it all and how this began.
and i stop and realize that i’m only thinking about it because i have been dismissed from the dining table and i’m sitting back at my office, typing these words.
my fight was taxing on us all.
i needed a break.
my partner took over.
i can hear the struggle still…
“you need to chew and swallow.”
“eat your food.”
and now with jackson being mere months away from 3 years old, he retorts, “chew and swallow, mommy,” but only when necessary. only when i am in front of him with another bite, ready on the spoon.
he has learned to manipulate.
did i teach him that?
**********
i don’t know how to navigate these waters. just when i think i’m coming up for air, i’m drowning in something else. wading in the deep end and growing exhausted.
is that what parenthood is?
a constant battle? an ongoing feud?
because in this household, it’s heading back in that all-too-familiar direction.
and i don’t like it one damn bit.
**********
they’re laughing now.
goofing off… a ticklefest, i imagine.
and so i’m going to join them.
continue to be present.
and remember to breathe.
toddler puke
i write a lot about puke. back when jackson was just a wee babe, i wrote A LOT about puke. paul and i always had puke on us in some form or fashion whether it was on our shirts because it soaked through the burp cloths, in our cupped hands as we tried to catch it so it didn’t get on the rug (which now just leaves me wondering “who catches puke?”), or in our hair and down our backs as we would burp jackson and be showered in his formulaic glory.
over time, months and months, we got used to the puke. paul and i would watch how jackson would swallow and we would just know that it was coming right back up. we would hear the tiniest bit of a gag and instantly cup our hands and await the vomit. in fact, paul and i honed our skills of reading our son’s puking signs so well to the point that we would move jackson, point him in the direction of the hardwood floor, and just watch it fly at the precise moment the show began.
we got mad skillz, yo.
but that was when it was just formula and the occasional pureed mashed baby food he ate. it was a puke, burp cloth/blanket wipe, clorox wipe, paper towel dry, change clothes and you’re done sort of thing…
a rhythmic dance, if you will.
the magoo has been puke-free for quite some time now, and though he still takes medication for his stomach and reflux issues, we have cut back on the dosage. progress my friends, progress.
last night however, i encountered quite possibly the most wretchedly disgusting and horrific scene my senses have come in contact with…
toddler puke.
or as a consoling friend described to me on twitter… something “OF THE DEVIL.”
********** YOU’VE BEEN GIVEN FAIR WARNING. THIS IS WHERE YOU STOP READING IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, YOU PANSY. **********
the magoo had been missing his dad a whole helluva lot yesterday, and started wondering (i think) if paul was actually going to ever return. he would rest his head on my shoulder and murmur for “mah daddy” and was extra snuggly. he wouldn’t point at pictures of paul and say “mah daddy” in recognition of paul, but with a saddened tone in his voice that said to me, “where did he go?”
so i gave the magoo a special treat last night, he had a cup of warm milk as i read him his bedtime story. (and no, it was not expired). the milk doesn’t happen often as we had weaning issues in the past and took the entire thing away. so very VERY rarely do we allow for this special treat to take place.
we read our stories, he drank his milk, we snuggled and rocked til he was groggy, and then i put him down for bed. i left his room, went into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. i then opened a bottle of petite sirah, poured myself a glass and sat down on the couch just in time to hear the following on the baby monitor…
“BLUHHHHDEIOWNVOANOIVNAIN RNEURBONAOIRNBKJNDNJIBNOV AWWWWNVIUENONDOINVEON MOM MAHHHHHH MOM!!!!!”
i could smell it down the hallway… putrid. absolutely putrid… and yes, “of the devil.”
upon opening the door, i witnessed my son covered head-to-toe in vomit. not formula-vomit, not just-wipe-it-up vomit, but FULL ON TODDLER KIDDIE MEAL VOMIT. it was in his hair, coming out of his nose, down his entire front, in between his fingers… covered his favorite blankey, his stuffed elmo… soaked through his crib sheet AND THE WATER-PROOF ONE and saturated even the baby bumper in his crib.
it was a chunky nightmare.
jackson just looked at me crying with his eyes wide open like “MOM, WHAT THE FUCK?!?” and i looked back at him with my eyes wide open like “MAGOO, WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”
i then went into action mode:
step 1: undress the magoo and begin creating the puke pile for laundry.
step 2: cleanse the magoo as much as possible without giving bath because he’s too tired to keep his eyes open.
step 3: redress the magoo and wrap him in blankets to keep him warm after being chilled from semi-bath.
step 4: place the magoo in his favorite chair and begin undoing all of his puke bedding.
step 5: watch the magoo giggle and play while untying the fucking baby bumper he has puked all over.
step 6: gather the magoo and pile of vomit materials and head to laundry room.
step 7: listen to the magoo bang on the laundry machine while stuffing it full of vomit materials.
step 8: brush the magoo’s teeth and recheck for any vomit remnants in his hair.
step 9: return to the magoo’s room and begin searching for new, clean bedding.
step 10: be attacked by the magoo throwing books at you, wanting to read, while you remake his crib.
step 11: listen to the magoo cry out of utter exhaustion because it’s now been an hour since this process began.
step 12: upon finishing the magoo’s bedding, find new blankey and snuggle until magoo is passed out.
step 13: place the magoo in clean crib and leave the scene of the crime.
i went back to my glass of petite sirah. and though i went to bed last night, i didn’t entirely go to sleep. i slept with the monitor on a little louder than normal. i went in and checked on the magoo so many times that i should’ve just camped out in his room for the night, except that it SMELLED LIKE VOMIT.
no fever. no teeth coming in. the magoo has a snotty nose… he just likes to communicate these things to me, and let me know that he’s not feeling entirely well by puking.
lucky me.
wordless wednesday
well… almost… how about “2 word wednesday.”
HE EATS!!!
are you paying attention? this doesn't happen often...
brace yourself...
we're goin in...
nom nom nom nom....
all business (maybe… kinda… sorta…)
enough with the “aw, what a beautiful family” comments on our 4th of july pics. we all know it’s not all smiles and parades with puppies and coordinating outfits all the time. thank you for your sweet words, but enough already. you’re making me vomit… but i love you for it.
the last few days with the magoo have been TOUGH to say the least. my twitter mom friends have gotten me through it and i thank you all from the deepest cavern in my heart because you know and you understand. and you encourage me, you stabilize me, you help me when i need help instantly. ps- thanks to you too twitter.
paul and i have been wrestling with weaning jackson from his bottle for a while now. a couple of months back, i posted about this, multiple times, wanting help/advice/comfort/sanity while somewhat touching on the subject, but not delving into the depths of what it means to truly say “peace out bottle. i need you no more.”
today…. TODAY i packed up the bottles. they are gone. and it’s weird… and i’m emotional about this in a way that i did not anticipate. as you recall, jackson recently started enjoying his bottles. which of course means that i FINALLY started enjoying giving him his bottles. it was our time. our sweet time…
curtains drawn, sound machine raining in the background, our little comfort cave…
and today i said, “enough, let’s get down to business.” and here’s the business folks… the bottles that jackson has been chugging, much like his uncle huge chugs beer, has been hindering his meals. jackson is fulfilled in his bottle feeds and uninterested in his meals, whether it be breakfast, lunch, or dinner… he knows in the back of his mind that come time to sleep (whether it’s a nap or bedtime) he’s got a nice warm bottle waiting for him to fill his little magoo belly.
the manipulative little shit.
so the last two days have SUCKED. jackson has been up in the night because not only is he fighting hunger, but his 4th and final 1st year molar is breaking through the skin as i type. it’s awful to watch, folks. these suckers are HUGE. and i hurt for him because he’s in pain and we do all we can… but the damn thing just won’t break through entirely yet. it’s a waiting game.
but i’m all business now… (til i break down and cry in my closet, by myself, feeling like a failure of a mother yet again for depriving my child). i’m stickin to it. we’re done with the “ba ba.” and hell, we should be… we never liked it in the first place for cryin out loud!!!
so yeah, i’m stickin to it. please encourage me. please hold me to it and keep me strong. i need my blogosphere community right now because i am so at the brink of giving in to my child, but i know this is what is best.
do i?
this feels very bitter-sweet to me as i watch our magoo go from being a baby… to a little person. and watching this growth take place, while it’s amazing… it’s sad. ironically enough, now the bottle is hurting him more than it’s helping him.
right now, it’s sad.
jackson is becoming a little boy. and he’s all about it… which keeps me smiling. he is so proud of himself. it’s just ridiculous. he claps when he feeds himself with his spoon. he claps when he drinks from a cup. he claps when he dances because paul and i are clapping for him to dance.
he’s becoming a person. he’s not my baby anymore.
***ADDED AFTER PUBLISHING*** this entire cold-turkey wean came on from a major puke episode yesterday morning. paul and i knew that we would not be giving jackson a bottle of milk for the remainder of the day, and thus we found ourselves ready to take advantage of the puke-situation and say no more ba ba.
a meal fit for a king
i didn’t grow up eating hotdogs with macaroni and cheese… like mixed in… together. i don’t like mixing my foods, but that’s an entirely other subject. paul, on the other hand, considers this meal a “white house regular” (no not THE WHITE HOUSE as in obama, but white house as in our last name is white. ps- don’t google me, i’m not exciting). anyway, so paul like grew up on this stuff.
here’s how tonight’s dinner convo went…
nic: “shit, i forgot to defrost the chicken this morning. can i do it quickly?”
paul: “sure, soak it in hot water.”
(nic places packaged chicken breasts (yes, jason, i just said “breasts”) in hot water and waits 15 minutes. thinks their done. takes them out of package, turns them over. they’re NOT done. NOT AT ALL. totally frozen. defrost method = FAIL).
nic: “um we have no veggies either. we have mac ‘n cheese. i wanted to make blue cheese cole slaw but the cole slaw looks old and nasty. we have no veggie.”
paul: “then we eat without a veggie.”
(ah, so simple to be a man….)
as for me, i was raised in a household where something green always needs to be on the plate. always. so with this dilemma, i stressed instantly. i mean it’s just a meal. we could’ve ordered a pizza, but we did that a few nights ago… we could’ve ordered chinese, but we did that a few nights before that.
i digress…
hot dogs cut up and mixed in with mac ‘n cheese… entirely new concept for me.
i mean, trust me, i lurve me a good dog. one that takes up the entire length of the bun, plump, ready to explode with whateverthehell it’s made out of, topped with a slice of kraft american cheese, and ketchup.
so paul launched himself in to “fix it” mode and made dinner tonight. FANTASTIC!
fear not, dear readers… as always, we kept it classy with the beverage. as we ate our meal fit for a king, of hot dogs and mac ‘n cheese, we sipped on jan de lichte “an imperial style belgian white ale brewed with spices.”
and i can honestly say i enjoyed my hot dogs with mac ‘n cheese (we used velveeta). ya got your meat (sort of… is it really meat?) and you got your dairy… (sort of… is it really dairy in that cheese?) so your food groups are somewhat covered, which means…..
we fed it to the magoo… cuz we’re all about the organic shit in this household…
whatever dudes… he ate it. that’s all that matters!!!
and he wanted more…
Have a Sip
