Now she no longer recognizes me as food. But sees a plastic bottle and that's when the idea of sustenance seems to flow through her tiny mind. It's mildly heartbreaking.
I was asked the other day:
Oh, but now that you're through the weaning process, it doesn't even phase you, right?
Like I said, mildly heartbreaking. Maybe, wildly heartbreaking.
I miss it.
I miss her.
There's something cozy and sweet and wonderful about being able to keep your offspring thriving. Each visit to the doctor gave me a sense of pride.
24 inches. 15 lbs, 4 oz. She's growing perfectly.
Thank you. Thank you, very much. I'd like to thank a few people: my rye bread, tuna, low-fat milk, and healthy dose of fruits and veggies. I couldn't of grown this baby without you.
Gritty, smelly formula mixed with water? That's going to be responsible for growing my baby?
Nevertheless. She loves it. I'd like to think I'll always be her favorite and that formula is 2nd best. It's all she's got, so she's got to love it, right?
I bring her downstairs after our morning routine of "moment-after-waking-up-snuggle-time" and diaper changing to attend to the lengthy process of preparing a bottle. Much more complicated than the former method.
As we turn the corner into the kitchen, she becomes a part of her own prime-time mini-movie nightmare.
Cue scary music.
This is what she sees....
There are things a tiny 6 month old mind still cannot understand.
Patience, for one.
Or, that a ton of dirty bottles is not a wonderful long row of food just staring her in the face. Mocking her.
Cue tears and wailing.
She saw them. Looked at me. And then began to cry.
Sorry, babe. But that's the consequence of mommy not being your food.
Like I said. Heartbreaking.
And maybe even a little bit funny.