poor poor baby

September 20, 2010

I’ve never been more happy yet disgusted yet relieved yet sympathetic yet horrified yet thankful yet scared yet optimistic yet traumatized all at once in my whole life! 

For the past 2 days my poor baby was, well, just not herself. Nap times were extra fussy, and bed time–it sounded more like what I’d imagine it would sound like if a hyena and a velociraptor got together and decided to attempt to break the sound barrier by screaming while simultaneously feasting on a flock of rabid geese. She was loud. Angry. Inconsolable.

And then when she had finally screamed herself into an unavoidable exhaustion, she fell into a restless sleep, and after only 30 minutes or so, she would wiggle and kick and flail herself back awake. I was, naturally, overjoyed with the whole situation.

I immediately wondered if she might be teething. Or maybe gassy or something? All I knew is that she had never acted like this before. I kept thinking if this is how she’s going to react to teething for the next however many months, maybe I should just start the drugs now and numb myself into a drug-induced haze.

I distinctly remember saying out loud at least five times over those two nights, “someone, please, call an exorcist.” 

Now, back up a little bit. She has been eating baby food–carrots and beets–for the past 3 weeks or so, and can’t get enough of them. I can’t shovel food into her mouth fast enough. In fact, she gets almost as excited over meal time as I do.

One time in college, when I was living with my cousin Sarah, her brother came over to hang out at our apartment just about the same time we were getting ready to sit down and eat. We had made a favorite of ours–this chicken and rice casserole deal-y–and I had carefully and perfectly arranged the food on my plate, organizing it to ensure that every spoonful would contain the perfect combination of creamy rice, succulent chicken, and just enough peas to give a burst of sweetness. We had just worked out and we were ravenous. I was excited–way more excited than a person should be about a simple meal based around a can of cream of mushroom soup. And then it hit us that her brother Micah might be hungry too. So Sarah asked the question, the answer to which I selfishly prayed would be ‘no’: “Hey Micah, are you hungry?”

From the living room I heard “Yeah I guess so” and I died a little, right there in our tiny kitchen. Since we had divied up the entire casserole between the two of us (like I said we had just worked out!!!), I had no choice but to pull out a third plate and slowly scrape almost half of the food I so lovingly arranged on my plate onto the third plate. Sarah did the same, and just by looking at me she could tell I was devastated over the whole ordeal. I think I ate my meal in silence, mourning the loss of my food and thinking about what could have been. It was all very healthy, really I swear.

So, back to present time. Combine my ravenous genes with the genes of my Mr. who has been known to fire up the grill at 2 in the morning to satisfy his cravings for hamburgers, and this kid is destined to have a LARGE appetite.

Well last week I decided to feed her avocado for the first time. She gobbled it up although the texture was a bit thicker and pastier than what she’s been used to. But she showed no hesitation or dislike for it, so I fed it to her. 

Oh, first time mom how little you know. 

Apparently that thick, pasty, mashed up avocado was just too much for her little 5-and-a-half-month-old system, which is only used to the runny, soft carrots and beets. Because this morning, after getting about 4 hours of sleep in the past 2 nights combined, and with a local exorcist on stand-by, and feeling that I could not possibly take any more screaming, SCREAMING, SCREEEAAAAMMMMMMMING….she pooped. 

And with the passing of that poop–a rock-hard, black mass the size of a golf ball–my sweet, happy, energetic baby instantly returned to me, just like that. 

Needless to say, we’ll stay away from the constipation-inducing, golf-ball turd producing avocado for awhile. We both need to catch our breath.

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