If anyone asked me “how is Emma doing” for the last few months this is basically what I said…
“She’s doing great! Doesn’t sleep through the night yet, but she’s really easy and happy go lucky…except she won’t take a bottle…oops”.
And people would grimace at me, say how sorry they were, ask me what I tried…and pat me on my head and send me off on my way. Praying to the heavens I didn’t ask them to ever ya know…babysit for more than maybe three hours.
It wouldn’t have been THAT big of a thing that she was anti plastic food source except for one teensy weeny little detail…we were going on a trip to Chicago for a weekend and homegirl was NOT allowed to come.
This trip wasn’t a surprise. It was on the calendar staring at me in big red pen for a long time “GET YOUR CHILD TO EAT FROM BOTTLE OR ELSE YOUR MOTHER WILL KILL YOU”….and your flight leaves at 8:40 am.
I tried every bottle. I read all the tips ” try it cold, try this bottle, try a dropper, try a sippy cup, try her sitting up, try standing on your head, trying praying, try BEGGING, try speaking in spanish, try doing the macarena and patting your belly and your head at the same time”. I tried it all world….IT ALL. And the most she ever ate was maybe an oz from one bottle because she would bite it and milk would come out…but she never really “ate”. Gulp. GULP.
Well…the weekend came. It happened…and we are all still alive.
But if you came by my house in those first 24 hours I think my parents woulda thrown just about anything at your head. The text message ” This is an epic fail” came soaring into my phone and here I was a plane ride away thinking… “Oh how horrible I am to have left my precious pudgy thing in the arms of selfless grandparents”.
I sent out “please Jesus let my child not turn into a screaming banshee and just DRINK”. I basically drank my weight in wine (a. because VACATION b. because NO KIDS c. because PUMP IT OUT d. because NEEDED TO e. because MUST NOT THINK). I went to bed and just hoped to the high heavens it wasn’t the worst night of their entire life…and then…
The word came that she drank 5 oz and was fat and happy and the world didn’t explode. HALLELUJAH. SHE IS A BOTTLE DRINKING CHAMP AND I DIDNT GET A CALL FROM CPS AND MY PARENTS STILL SPEAK TO ME.
So, if anyone ever asks for advice on how to get their bottle hating cherub how to drink a bottle…my advice.
1. Book a plane ticket
2. Beg parents to watch said child
3. Throw phone in the trash to avoid reading hate texts
4. Pray…and pray some more
6. WINE SOME MORE
7. Do happy dance when your child basically just doesn’t give anymore F’s and decides drinking milk is better than starving
8. Hug parents and say THANK YOU for braving the tough task of putting your child through bottle boot camp
9. Self five for avoiding having to do it on your own 🙂
Now I know that I totally used up all of my favors until Emma is basically in 5th grade on this one weekend, but knowing that I can now leave the house without worrying if the child will turn into the exorcist or not…is just OH SO REFRESHING. MILK OR FORMULA. DONT CARE. JUST DRINK AND BE HAPPY.
Thanks again mom and dad for the baby training and toddler wrangling!! How do y’all feel about potty training….good? Great.