As usual, I don’t know where to begin. Over the past two weeks, I have experienced the low of crying while lying sprawled on the floor with a string of snot connecting my nose to the carpet to the high of many truly perfect moments with a happy, big-bellied Stella smiling in the sun.
We went through two weeks of teething hell during which Stella ate a lot less than usual and lost a half a pound in one week. At first, I wasn’t worried at all, because I knew it was due to teething and I knew that her occupational therapist had said that Stella has no feeding issues anymore. I knew it would pass and that she would rebound. I was extremely proud of myself. But then she was throwing up and refusing some of her bottles. So, in totally predictable fashion, just as I started to worry like a crazy person again, she ate way, way, way more than usual. And that is when we went to Minnesota and had an amazingly good time thanks to fabulous weather, a beautiful 18-acre estate, which seemed like a meticulously kept, expansive public garden/park with a house in the middle, Stella’s healthy appetite, and her adoring grandparents. Oh, and this is big: We stopped thickening Stella’s bottles yesterday, and so far, it’s going pretty well–though we may need to make an adjustment as the #3 nipple seems too slow, even with faster, unthickened formula. Stella doesn’t do “slow.”
So, it appears that Stella has made a deal with us. She’ll eat anything you put in front of her (provided she likes it–and she likes a lot of things), without complaint. Entire avocados. Pieces torn from our grilled steak, crusted from the spice rub. Full pieces of whole grain bread smeared with extra virgin olive oil. Yogurt blended with fresh mango. Millet/brown rice/lentil super porridge pureed with papaya, flax oil and brewer’s yeast. Savory baked tofu by the truckload. However. She’ll throw over-the-top fits any other time she pleases. I was happy with this arrangement until I tried to change her diaper, at which point she screamed bloody murder and attempted to leap headfirst from the changing table.
Okay, I’m still happy with the arrangement. I’m just wondering how to deal with the emerging tantrums. Like the one she threw on the grass alongside the wading pool at Green Lake this afternoon. She hollered at the top of her lungs and wound up in a headstand position–pretty much dangling by her ankles, anyway–as I put on her diaper. Then we went home and had lunch, and she barked at me while pointing at the toast I was tearing up for her. Apparently, the service is too slow. I’ll work on that, Stella. A deal’s a deal.