Guess Who’s Winning The Weaning War?

As seen in New York Family magazine: http://www.newyorkfamily.com/guess-whos-winning-the-weaning-war/

Dream: I’m comfortably snuggled in Mommy’s bosom. I can always relax to the point of falling asleep in this cozy embrace. I cross my legs at my ankles, burrow into her warm chest, and fall asleep listening to Mommy’s heart beat. This is heaven!

Reality: I wake up ready for my milk. Daddy greets me at the crib. Where is Mommy? I love seeing Daddy but not until after I’ve had my morning fix. I can’t function until I have my milk in me. I pound my fists and sob uncontrollably. I start to circle the apartment looking for Mommy. Daddy keeps chasing me with a sippy cup filled with cow’s milk, but I want liquid gold from Mama’s babas. I know they’re here somewhere. She rocked and sang me to sleep last night and she’s never up before I am. So I storm into room after room looking for her but no Mommy in sight. I fall to the ground hysterically crying for Mama’s babas.

You see, Mommy nursed me since I was a newborn. Despite many obstacles and unwelcome commentary, she persevered. It was one of our first bonding experiences and she stuck with it, nourishing me into a beautiful and strong little lady. Not only has it boosted my immunities, but it also helps me ward off diseases, allergies, and other health risks.

Also, Mommy’s milk tastes fantastic! No, really. It’s new and exciting depending upon what she eats. Her diet makes the milk take on flavor nuances; my taste buds practically dance. I’ve had osso bucco milk, sushi milk (better than it sounds), spicy curry milk, but my favorite is Oreo milk. I hear cookies and milk are a perfect match, no?

Besides the milk being delicious, it’s so comforting for Mommy to cuddle me close every time we nurse. She twiddles my hair and lets me put my feet on her chin. If anyone dares to interrupt us, I quickly unlatch and glare. It always does the trick. I get her all to myself. Is that so wrong?
But for the past several weeks, I can’t help but notice that I’m being offered the babas less and less. I’ve learned to love my sippy cup, but there’s no milk like Mommy’s milk. I don’t know why it’s being slowly taken from me. Sure, I’ve bitten a few times, but Mommy never deprived me of her babas after a tiny bite from me. And no matter where we went, she always offered them. On airplanes, trains, and automobiles, at home and on vacation. I did start playing peek-a-boo with the hooter hider exposing Mommy by accident on occasion, but she always seemed to laugh it off.

At first I thought maybe the babas were broken. I’ve seen my toys break and come back to life with new batteries. I tried sneaking batteries into Mommy’s brasserie, but it didn’t work. My sippy cup sometimes needs a shake to get the milk out, so I tried the shaking method. No such luck. I observed the sink stop running hot water and Daddy fixed it, but he doesn’t seem to be fixing my babas even though I know he likes them, too. He always thanks me for giving them to Mommy. And I asked very nicely for the babas. Until now and that brings us to my tantrum.

While I may not have mastered the verbal skills needed to articulate what I want, I have this whole body language thing down and know how to say “give me those babas.” I keep asking for them, but it’s as if they don’t want to listen. Is this practice for when I ask for a pony? Is this some sort of awful prank? I don’t get it.

I begrudgingly drink from my sippy cup. Daddy told me he put chocolate milk in it, but I keep asking for Mommy’s brand instead. Finally, that night, I won the battle royale. I got my babas back! It was even better than I remembered. Mommy thought I fell asleep, but I saw her smiling at me and heard her say she loves nursing me, too.

We’re at a standstill at present with the score at Elle Belle: 1, Mommy and Daddy: 1. But I think we all know who will win the weaning war!

Mommy-Baby Food Wars

As Seen in New York Family Magazine: http://www.newyorkfamily.com/mommy-baby-food-wars/


Twas the night of our first feeding and all through the apartment
The kitchen was stirring and baby had not one hint
The high chair was placed at the table with care
With a vinyl plastic cloth placed under there…

Dream: I open my mouth for my first bites of food and gobble them down enthusiastically. I open wide for more. “This rice cereal is fantastic!” I exclaim with a high-pitched squeal and sparkling smile. I grab the spoon from Mommy’s hand and begin to self-feed effortlessly and efficiently. I continue on this flawless feeding path with new food that’s introduced every few days. As each food stage progresses, so does my ability to feed myself with a fork and spoon. My table manners are given the seal of approval by Miss Manners, too. Yup, this baby loves everything she eats and makes parenting a breeze at mealtime.

Reality: What’s this mushy, gushy poor excuse for food? You want me to eat that? I don’t think so.

As I close my mouth super tightly while refusing to take another bite, I vigorously shake my head from side to side saying “no!” the only way I know how to. Although a couple of bites have landed in my mouth and may have made the trip down to my tummy, most of the food is: 1) on the floor, 2) finger painted on the highchair, 3) in puppy’s tummy (puppy is always asking for food so must be hungry!), 4) on yours truly, or 5) all over Mommy. It looks as if we redecorated with splatter paint Jackson Pollock style. (I learned about him from my Touch the Art books, thank you very much.) I must say, the rice cereal adds a design element that this apartment sorely needed.

Mommy keeps smiling while trying to feed me the same disgusting bite of food. Does she really think that if the spoon choo choos like a train, flies like a plane, or if my teddy bear feeds me, it changes how nasty the food tastes? I open wide once or twice to egg her on just to see what else she can come up with. She’s not the only one who can play these games.
This is absurd. I can feed myself. So I take the spoon from Mommy and wave it in the air triumphantly. Oops. As I swing the piece of stolen cutlery I toss most of the stuff that was on it. Darn. Well there’s still some stuck in the curve of the spoon. I can totally pick it out with my nails that I don’t let Mommy clip. Touching it with my fingers is way better than eating it anyway. I can feel the textures without having to taste it. I can also swirl it all around on my high chair tray, rub it through my hair, and massage it all over my face. It’s just like getting a facial. Or so I hear.

While enjoying my facial, Mommy tries to recover the spoon and but I distract her by tossing the bowl in her direction instead. The rogue bowl hits her in the face. She grimaces and says “ouch.” It’s hilarious! I burst out laughing. It makes Mommy laugh, too. Mission accomplished.

Mommy somehow manages to get the spoon back and refills it. I try one big bite. Yum. This is great. I chew and swallow, chew and swallow. What did she do? Lace it with my Mum-Mums? Banana, Mommy says. Banana makes the cereal better. Mommy gives me a piece of banana without cereal, too. It tastes even better without the cereal! This eating thing isn’t so bad after all.

I wonder if everything else that Mommy and Daddy eat tastes as good as bananas. I cannot wait to find out. And between us, I hear that NYC has some fine dining so I plan to try every star chef’s bananas. Watch out NYC restaurant scene…here I come!

Food Fight

Eating is like an adventure in fun

I play and throw my food on everyone

First it was cereal then potato

Next it was green beans and then tomato

I liked it all but made a big fat mess

From my hands to feet; from my head to chest.

I tried avocado-- it was a bust

Oatmeal’s a yummy in tummy must

Not so sure about these green kiwi yet

But yellow bananas are a sure bet.

Vegetable, fruit, or grain is a fun game

But to me some things just all taste the same.

I submerge my ten fingers in it all

I squeal as I spread it and have a ball.

My bib is covered in food residue;

My body is covered all in it too.

To the tub I go when the meal is complete

A bath is also for my high chair seat

I wonder how much is in my tummy

And how much more food will be yummy?

This is all so new this learning to eat

I haven’t a clue; but it’s a good treat.

I look like a natural disaster

And in the end I fill Mom with laughter

We love each meal time and its aftermath

When baby and kitchen all get a bath!

Twas the night of our first feeding

Twas the night of our first feeding and all through the apartment
The kitchen was stirring and baby had not one hint
The high chair was placed at the table with care
With a vinyl plastic cloth placed under there

The rice cereal was ground to a powder as told
Then added some water and breast milk of old
So the milk would give baby a familiar taste
As we begin introducing foods with haste

When from the high chair there arose such a clatter
We had a food fight; all over went the batter
Mommy tried very hard to get me to eat
My not so delicious rice cereal treat

Doctor said start with cereal so Mom did
But it is very bland and boring so she hid
Her thoughts that I would enjoy sweet potatoes better
Before writing the rice cereal rejection letter.

I at least enjoyed the spoon for just a minute
Before the rice cereal was placed in it
I took one big bite and then a little more
Then pushed the spoon away and threw it to the floor

"Now Baby! now, Baby! now, just give it a try!
Try it, you’ll like it- the best rice Mommy can buy.
Take the spoon to the mouth-we are having a ball!
Now just eat one bite; you don’t have to eat it all!

I tried it again and took one more cereal bite
Rice dripped right out of my mouth and I saw the fright
In Mom's eyes at the whole eating solid foods thing
So Mom tried to make it fun and started to sing

And then, in a second, Mom sang three blind mice
Which distracted me just enough to eat some rice.
As Mom drew in her hand, and was turning around,
Down went the rice cereal to the floor with a bound.

I was covered in rice, from my head to my toe,
And I laughed and giggled and Mom wallowed in woe.
A spoon of cereal was flung at her rack,
And I looked like an angel, just smiling right back.

My eyes-how they twinkled! my dimples how merry!
My hands were all sticky and sweeter than sherry!
My little mouth frowned with each attempt to eat
I just wanted my milk from my Mommy’s teat

We’ll try cereal again for four more days
Then introduce a brand new food for me to graze
Soon my palate will appreciate finer food
For now we’ll try to get Mom in a better mood

We will take a warm bath with our rubber ducky,
And we smile in the bath, I am so lucky!
A splash in the tub and shampoo of my head,
No more rice cereal; nothing more to dread.

Mom spoke not a word, but just gave a smile,
And filled all the room with joy for a while.
And pulling my ten toes right up to my nose,
And giving a nod, out of the bath I rose!

Mom thought how she wished I liked my solid food meal,
But was just pleased to be done with this landmark ordeal.
Mom gave me a big kiss and hugged me oh so tight,
"Happy first feeding my baby; have a good night!"