Finally, a set of wheels!

Stella's new wheelsMy sisters and I had a shiny purple tricycle that became a neighborhood legend. Everybody wanted to ride it. But if Danny, a baseball-obsessed boy who lived a few houses away, ever took it out of our driveway and into the street, I’d become irrationally nervous about the potential for damage or theft. It was totally classic in build yet had a unique violet hue and metallic sheen that gave it some edge. It looked and handled better than my first car, a 1979 Pinto with ironic racing stripes. (Side note: I graduated from high school in 1995.)

While strolling and devouring a Flipside pie this morning, during which time Cody and Stella were off on grand adventures to both Gymboree and the zoo, I spotted a little beauty on the sidewalk outside the consignment store down the street. Made in Germany by Kettler, with a price ($60)  I couldn’t refuse, it seemed very sturdy and well made–destined for Stella’s fast and often furious feet. Cody and I had previously browsed new Kettlers at the toy store around the corner, where they sell for around $200. There is one big advantage of the newer models: as a parent, you can lock the pedals and navigate the stroller yourself (for faster, stroller-like transportation) thanks to a push bar attached to the back of the bike that now comes standard. I could buy a push bar separately (Kettler offers this and many other accessories) and attach it, but the pedals won’t lock, so I’m not sure that would work so well. As a result of this realization, I felt a touch of buyer’s remorse.

But then I remembered our fantastic old-school trike which we managed to navigate ourselves just fine. I never once though, “Gee, I wish I could just sit back and let mom take over. I hate being in control.” So I figure this one should work out just fine for Stella. She loved it immediately and can even use the pedals to a limited degree. Clearly this is another three-wheeled legend in the making!

Broken glasses, stained clothes, and other infuriating non-issues.

The other day during breakfast, I asked Stella to name her favorite animal. She sat there for a minute, with her brow furrowed and finger perched on her lips, obviously in deep thought. Stella then perked up and exclaimed, “MEERKATS!” We saw them at The Woodland Park Zoo a couple weeks ago. Honestly, I expected them to look more like rodents, but they were WAY more adorable than that. I remember Stella smiling from ear to ear as she watched the meerkats scurry around in their faux-desert environment. Melted my freezer-burned heart. Anyway, Cody and I were so impressed with her question-answering that we followed up with another query: “Stella, what’s your favorite food?” She immediately replied, “Animals!” Come to think of it, the girl does enjoy bacon and chicken.

It’s amazing to me how someone so cute, small and thoughtful can be so destructive. See, Stella’s first pair of glasses lasted only 18 days. Last night, while riding in the car, she just about tore one of the temples clean off. It’s still attached, but dangling and wonky. Kind of like my sanity, except with that, there’s no warranty.

Know what else is messed up? There are oil stains on every piece of clothing that I own. Pre-treating with dishwashing liquid helps a lot, but it’s hard to get them all out, because oil stains are invisible until you put the garment on to wear for the day. Then they leap from their hiding places, get all up in your face, and yell, “Surprise, chump!” And you’re not thrilled. Upon reflection, the amount of rage these stains have prompted from me is embarrassing. I have thrown tunics across rooms, and yelled angrily about how I have nothing to wear. And I’m 33 years old.

Perhaps my instability is linked to the fact that Stella’s been eating a lot less lately. Yep, when Stella’s appetite wanes to this degree, it still bothers me, even though I know better. When I said my sanity was dangling, I meant it. During the past week, more food has wound up on my clothes than in her mouth. She often refuses to sit in her chair and will only come to the table if she gets to sit in my lap. I’ve had to fight to remain calm–especially when she gets my hopes up by grabbing a fistful of tomato-y, olive-oil laden pasta, only to casually dump it back on her plate and grab me by the front of my shirt for leverage as she repositions herself in order to get down from the table, after eating just about nothing. Maddening. She’s just too busy thinking about meerkats to eat, and who has time for napkins when mom’s new t-shirt is at the ready?

But I’m not all hopeless or anything. Stella’s got a back-up pair of glasses (because I’m a genius). Even better–I haven’t seen Stella’s eyes cross since she got the glasses! Over the past couple weeks, I bought an entire new (summer) wardrobe for Stella and myself. But I’m no fool. At meal times I’m wearing that fun, striped apron I wisely bought a year ago and never used. Which reminds me, Stella happily ate a bit more at breakfast and lunch today–hooray!

Sorry, Cody and Stella. I’ve been a bit down lately. But it looks like we’ll survive. In the heat of a frustrated moment, I forget how good we are at that.

What the crap.

Skyping with Stella's grandparents always cheers us up.

Skyping with grandparents cheers us up.

So, we’re dealing with what shall be known as “The Great Glasses Adjustment of 2010” (also referred to as “Operation Straight Eyes”) when at some point last night, Stella developed a cold, and some jerk broke into my humble tan sedan. Probably at the same time. I somehow left my now stolen iPhone (which I got for $99, refurbished, so don’t get the wrong idea about my spending habits) on the seat after a late-night grocery run to fetch staples for Stella and dinner ingredients for tonight. And I know what you’re thinking, but no. I don’t resent the fact that the fancy Volvo station wagon parked in front of my dented Ford Focus was left untouched.

We quickly replaced the smashed window, the remnants of which Cody spent the morning cleaning up, rather than working out as planned. He cut his hand, but not too bad. Between optical expenses, ER bills, theft, and broken windows, we are hemorrhaging money. I think I just saw a fat-ass fly ride a twenty dollar bill out the window like it was a magic carpet. Because money is just getting more and more creative about how to get the hell out of here.

Stella’s hypoallergenic formula, a.k.a. gastronomical gold dust, wasn’t covered by insurance after she was weaned from the tube, so for about eight months, we spent $1000 on Elecare every thirty days. Our household ran at a deficit–we haven’t had credit card debt for a long time and didn’t accumulate any, but our savings withered. There were also many, many tube-related ER trips and a hospital stay during that time. Over-the-top expensive, but to be honest we didn’t think much about it, because of the urgency of Stella’s healthcare needs back then. Cost didn’t really matter, because we had our savings to fall back on and because we just wanted her to eat, no matter what it took, and before too long, she did! Well, very recently, we’d finally caught up were able to send a chunk of change to our neglected nest egg. Now we’re taking a step backwards, further away from our financial goals. But that’s life. We’ll bounce back. I’ll get some project work. Come hell or high interest rates, we’ll own a home soon, and we’ll appreciate every nail in every floorboard, every drawer that opens and closes smoothly without creating sawdust, every annoying, costly repair that at least reinforces the home we own.

Do you believe in The Secret? I used to be pretty pumped up by it. Now I’m totally embarrassed about that. The Secret, at least in the form this concept took in the movie, creates the illusion of complete control over life and wealth and circumstances. Yes, that ever-elusive sense of control. Which is probably why I loved it so much at first. Not that there’s no truth contained therein. I do think that our attitude and beliefs to shape our world in powerful ways. But it’s not that simple. Some things really are beyond our control. We can’t avoid all disaster or disappointment or difficulty just by looking in the mirror and telling ourselves how wonderful and perfect our lives, bank accounts, and vision are. But we can choose how to respond, and make the best of it. What an old-fashioned idea.

I’ll buy a new phone, move on, and take care not to leave it or anything else of value in the car. Besides, the joke’s on them! Those stupid thieves didn’t realize Stella’s car seat was worth about three times as much as the iPhone. Though, it’s probably not quite as easy to tote around while lurking in an evil fashion along the streets looking for more shit to steal from stressed out, absentminded moms.

Here’s an attempt at a point. Why am I so quick to blame myself for everything? I don’t think that way about other people. Obviously, Stella didn’t do anything to deserve or “attract” a feeding tube or accommodative esotropia. And all those kids starving in Africa, and those hungry here in this wildly unbalanced country of ours? You think their bellies are grumbling because they don’t know The Secret? Right. I bring this up because part of me does wonder how I could’ve brought all this upon us. (Possible answers: My negative attitude. My dissatisfaction with our rented home and distance from family. My impatience.) But there’s another voice that is out of breath from jumping up and down while yelling loud enough to be heard: “It could be a lot worse, you idiot!” See? Even this voice is self-deprecating. It continues, “You are still very lucky! Remember all the things and people that are right and beautiful and decidedly not stolen!”

And hey, you know what? There’s this. Stella did a pretty fantastic job wearing her glasses today. At some point, she sat on the big chair by the window and counted to ten while smiling. And I got a free triple latte from Fuel today–they said the machine was acting up, but I think the barista knew I needed a boost. It’s a start. I’m grateful for that and a whole lot more.

Put me back together.

Ouch.

"Stella! No, use two hands! Gentle! Ah, crap. Just hand them to me."

Cody, Stella and I were all over at Cooper’s house the other day while his parents enjoyed a date night, an event that Cooper (Stella’s best bud and play-date companion)  refers to as an “update,” which really makes sense if you think about two parents going out and spending time together away from their one-year-old. Music is almost always playing while Stella and Co0per are together, because they love to dance (which looks a look like jogging–actually, sprinting–in place) during play dates and within five minutes of arrival one or the other starts in with, “Music? Musiiiiiiiic?” So, we’re intermittently bopping to the music and sending miniature skateboards down ramps when this irresistibly sweet, poppier-than-pop song by Meaghan Smith comes on. The chorus innocently asks, “What’s the use in fixing what’ll only break again?”  And good lord did it hit the proverbial nail on the head. Pesky tears invaded my eyes and a boulder lodged in my throat and I just danced toward the corner until it passed.

As you now know, Stella got her glasses on Friday. We were in the optical shop for an adjustment today, Monday. Already. At first, on Friday morning, I thought she was taking to them amazingly well. She wore them for a long stretch on the playground, briefly removed them and asked me to put them back on while in the car, and she wore them all through lunch. But now I’m realizing that her initial interest can be chalked up to sheer novelty. The more she realizes they’re sticking around, the less wants to do with them. Usually, she’ll wear them for two to five minutes before ripping them off with one hand, stretching the frames in a way that looks like nails on a chalkboard sound. It’s excruciating to see her twist and throw them. But it’s not just that. It’s tough because it’s such a battle, actually more of a war with many, many battles taking place and well-thought out strategies and tactics required for victory. It’s stressful and exhausting to see her tear them off, and then my brain starts whizzing, as in, “Okay, how long can I give her before I put them back on? How long before her eyes are in danger of crossing? What will I distract her with this time–a book? No, we’ve gone though all her favorites already. Stickers! I’ll try the stickers.  What if she doesn’t let me put them on–for the fourth time in a row during these last few minutes? Should I put them in the case for a while or is that like giving up? Wait–have I eaten yet today? When does Stella need to eat? Maybe she’ll wear them if I give her some chocolate chip.” Cue the screaming.

Like a well-programmed mombot with super human strength and endurance (but not really), I automatically bend over backwards to repair a fragile something that is forever poised to break. The glasses. But also something in me (and maybe Stella, too?). When Stella got over her feeding aversion, no longer required a feeding tube and learned to enjoy eating, I thought we were clear. We were going to be okay from then on. But it wasn’t true. That’s impossible, and every parent on earth faces the same perilous reality. There’s always another challenge, frustration, or heartbreak around the corner. Thank god they’re so damn cute and resilient. And for every soul-searing ER visit and agonizingly difficult hurdle that you somehow muster the strength to clear, there’s–oh, where to begin–thousands of laughs that lift you up so, so high, dozens and dozens of triumphs that affirm you, your child, and life itself, and about seven hundred smiley, silly dances. Not a bad bargain at all, even if the song makes me cry.

She’s worth it a million times over.

Baby got glasses.

I’m thrilled and proud to reveal Stella’s new look. Below you’ll find a selection of the bazillion photos I’ve taken since Friday morning, when we picked up Stella’s glasses. I love her beautiful frames, the TamTam by Lafont in Blue (color code 220), and Stella could not look more adorable in them. I’ve ordered a second pair with Trivex aspheric lenses to reduce the magnification of Stella’s eyes while providing her with a clearer view of the world (without sacrificing impact resistance), and to make sure she can still wear her glasses if one pair breaks or gets too bent out of shape to wear. Which already happened this morning. Ahem.

Really, though, Stella’s done fabulously. Her resistance is to be expected. Her vision is pretty great without them, so there’s no huge incentive for her to wear them. We know it will prevent her eyes from crossing and prevent vision problems associated with crossing, but she doesn’t. How could she? I’ve been worried about getting her to wear them–it’s tough.  I’m stressed when she rips them off and pretty much in general as we both adjust, but there have been many wonderful moments, too. On Friday, she wore them on the playground for a good while and had no trouble with balance or depth perception. (The optician said she might struggle with stairs or running on uneven surfaces. I’ve seen a little evidence of that, but it’s not too bad at this point.) Then she took them off on the way from the playground to the car, but once planted in her car seat she asked me to put them back on! On Saturday, she wore them for a glorious hour-and-a-half stretch, which included a car ride, even though kids with new glasses usually rip them off in the car, or whenever they get bored. On Sunday, she put two small pieces in a puzzle–she’s never really done that before, always seeming to have little to no patience with those sorts of precise tasks.

From what I understand of other parents’ accounts, shared on littlefoureyes.com, it’ll probably take two weeks for Stella to get used to wearing them without constantly removing them. Three days down, 11 to go!

You’re doing great, Stella. I’m very, very proud to be your mom. I don’t even mind wearing these CRAZY vanity frames, though I wish my specs were as cool as yours. You really could not be more beautiful.

Day 1

 

 

A new view of lunch.

A new view of lunch.

 

 

Newfound clarity, same ol' mac and cheese

Newfound clarity, same ol' mac and cheese

 

 

She even got to watch TV. Your Baby Can READ! DVDs are the ultimate distraction.

She even got to watch TV. Your Baby Can READ! DVDs are the ultimate distraction.

 

 

I wonder how her view of the playground has changed. In any case, she's still focused on fun. (Sorry. I'm hopeless.)

I wonder how her view of the playground has changed. In any case, she's still focused on fun. (Sorry. I'm hopeless.)

 

 

And the treats don't stop. Celebratory ice cream.

And the treats don't stop. Celebratory ice cream... at Molly Moon's, of course.

 

 

An impromptu, post-ice cream Sears-catalog-style photo shoot in front of the grocery store.

An impromptu, post-ice cream Sears-catalog-style photo shoot in front of the grocery store.

 

Day 2

 

 

New glasses distraction purchase #547: "Kat Kong"

New glasses distraction purchase #547: "Kat Kong"

 

 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

Day 3

 

 

All she wants to do is read! Even on the bus!

All she wants to do is read! Even on the bus!

 

 

 

 

Sorry to interrupt your reading, Professor Sweetness.

Sorry to interrupt your reading, Professor Sweetness.

 

Talking about PRACTICE.

Stella’s glasses are in. Arrived at Children’s Eye Care this morning. After her nap, currently failing to happen right now as evidenced by pained wailing, we’re schlepping back to the optical shop to fetch them.

Reading is even better with practice glasses! Imagine how amazing it will be with REAL glasses and lenses! Thanks to the photographer: Cooper's mom. A lovely lady, dear friend, and playdate savior.

Reading is even better with practice glasses! Imagine how amazing it will be with REAL glasses and lenses! Thanks to the photographer: Cooper's mom. A lovely lady, dear friend, and playdate savior.

During this morning’s playdate, she spent a couple of hours with her best buddy Cooper and his wonderful mom while I went out to track down some vanity frames. While I was scoring some white-framed, clear-lensed monstrosities at Forever 21 and a pair of sweet, sleek Ray-Bans at Macy’s (the former to wear indoors and the latter, much-needed ones to wear out), it turns out she was practicing–with Kevin-Garnett-esque focus.

Trial run with glasses

A trial run with vanity frames. Cooper's lens-free sunglasses tap into Stella's sporty, intense side while my white funksters really bring out the yellow in my dead front tooth. Our glasses motto is clearly "Go big or go home." No boring frames for us. Wait until you see her REAL glasses! From Paris with love!

My dear friend was thoughtful enough to bring makeshift toddler vanity glasses–little sunglasses without the lenses–for Stella and her little buddy to wear. You know, just for fun! What? No! Not for any grander purpose like acclimating her in preparation for a possible lifelong relationship with spectacles! Ha! <Nervous, maniacal laughter.> Ahem. Her sweet, easygoing son is quite good about wearing them and today was no exception. After he sported them for a while, Stella started to come around. She proceeded to put them on and destroy her previous three-second personal record for donning frames.

(Aaaaaaand she’s still not napping. Our momentous trek will likely be postponed until tomorrow morning. I don’t want Stella to be extremely cranky as they do the very important adjustment, to fit the glasses to her head.)

Of course, in truth, there is no grand finale expected when she gets her fabulous specs. Sure, we’ve done a lot of preparation leading up to today, which I realize has been as much for me as for Stella. We visited five different optical shops, an optician, and an ophthalmologist. Made dozens of stops at littlefoureyes.com, a site full of tips, community and encouragement for parents of babies and kids with glasses. We’ve read heartening stories about lovable characters getting glasses and discovering new clarity and skills (for example, Arthur’s shooting percentage goes way the hell up in the timeless, spec-centric classic, Arthur’s Eyes). I bought her the cutest onesie ever (which I first spied on a bespectacled cutie in the gallery at littlefoureyes.com), featuring a phat frog wearing glasses, which she loves. We’ve worn vanity frames (and I’ll continue to do so). Mimi (that’s my mom’s “grandmother moniker”) ordered Stella a doll with glasses. And at every possible opportunity, as in whenever we see anyone wearing glasses anywhere, we excitedly point it out to Stella in an effort to convince her that glasses are super fun and, to use 80’s lingo, awesome to the max. That’s all well and good and we can rest a bit easier knowing we did some groundwork. But I’m aware that it’s probably going to take some time–possibly weeks–for Stella to be comfortable enough to wear them consistently and reliably throughout the day without throwing fits of rage. I’ve got to be persistent, because not wearing them is really not an option, but I will have to learn when a break is really needed, in order to prevent all-out war. Bottom line: I don’t expect her to cooperate right away, because this will probably just seem like an nonsensical, offensive nuisance to her at first–and really, that’s okay.

But then again, you never know. When my sister was pregnant with her second child, they waited until she was “showing” to tell her then almost-5-year-old son James, the unsinkable kid who named his goldfish “Awesome,” that he’d soon be a big brother. People couldn’t resist asking him, casually and out of curiosity, “So James, ever think it would be nice to have a little brother?” He’d reply with a calm, cold and sure “No.” Well, all kinds of people kept posing this question until finally he exploded, shouting, “NO! Why does everybody keep asking me? I don’t want a brother! Now stop asking me!” Later, when they filled him in on his brotherly destiny, he was 100% thrilled with the “awesome” news.

So, I’m not sure what kind of glasses battles are in store. It’s probably going to be tough as HELL, but maybe Stella will surprise me. Like when she casually eats the broccoli out of our take-out pad see ew. I guess we’ll see, won’t we? All will become clear soon. Yes, everything will come into sharper focus shortly. I just have to keep the end goal in sight.

Assuming I can get a picture of her wearing them, I’ll post a photo of bespectacled Stella tomorrow. No more puns, I promise. Godspeed.

(P.S. I just realized that I’m still wearing my three-dollar white vanity frames. Almost two hours after putting Stella down for her nap. Talk about commitment to a bit!)

Strabismus confirmed. Glasses ordered.

Didn't you know? Cool characters wear glasses.

Didn't you know? Cool characters wear glasses. And have yogurt on their faces.

On Thursday afternoon, Stella’s eyes started rolling in again. All our questions evaporated. She has emerging accommodative esotropia. She really needs glasses. And that’s that.

So on Friday morning, we skipped Gymboree and went to find specs for Stella. She tried on three pairs.

Go ahead and judge me–I’ve watched “Say Yes to the Dress” once or twice. And our trip to the optical shop, in the Children’s Eye Care office in Kirkland, was a lot like that show. Except instead of catty commentary in the air and mimosas in our hands, there was extremely enthusiastic, high-pitched encouragement and a light-up spinning ball wand (which, somehow, is almost as intoxicating as OJ and bubbly).

The first and second pairs were total disappointments. Which in hindsight was perfect. Great for building suspense (and ratings). And then, as if scripted, we found the ones. They are French and fabulous. They are blue (also clear, white, purple and green) and if I described them in any detail, they would just sound crazy and over-the-top. But they are not. They work. Tim Gunn would most definitely approve–in fact, I bet he’d be super jealous. I am. As soon as the optician put those beauties on Stella’s face, she and I both knew. We just knew. We didn’t cry tears of joy, but we should have. Because audiences eat that up.

Her Parisian pair will be ready on Wednesday or Thursday of this week, barring any issues. You will want to wear glasses if you don’t. You may even view Stella as a budding fashion icon.* Stay tuned for the big reveal!

* All of this is assuming I’m able to get the glasses on her face for more than three seconds (the current record during try-ons).

Stella says.

“Slowly… slowly… very… slowly… creeps the… garden… snail!” She didn’t know I was watching her as she crept her fingers up her arm in snail-like fashion, the way I do when I sing this song to her. With extreme concentration and focus, and a dramatic pause preceding each word, she managed to sing this line perfectly. She was so proud that she lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Hello, this is Stella.” We were in the bathroom when she picked up one of her whale cups–bath toys that I often hold to my ear during Stella’s bathtime (or whenever I need to make a deep-sea call) and say, “Calling all whales!” She put it to her ear and said, clear as day, “Hello, this is Stella.”  Very professional.

Goodbye “wawa,” hello “waterrrrr.” A while back she got better at making precise “T” sounds. And yesterday, Stella suddenly, and seemingly out of the blue, mastered the hard “R” sound. Let me tell you, she’s flaunting it! She holds those R’s about as long as I used to hold up my arm after hitting a three-pointer (about a half hour). Half the time, I can’t enunciate as well as her. Sometimes, she sounds downright Irish. Grandpa Martin would be proud.

“Wash your hands!” She says this whenever the bathroom sink catches her eye. We have to be more careful to keep that door closed these days, because the risk of scalding and perilous falling have skyrocketed. She’ll climb up onto the toilet, stand up, inch her way to the edge, lean way over, and wind up with her belly against the sink and only her toes gripping the outer edge of the toilet. Then she turns on the faucet to play in the water–it’s our Disneyworld.

As with pronunciation, she is a role model for me in hand washing. Thanks, Stella for making me a more hygienic and intelligible person. You are wonderful and I’m hanging on to your every word.

All atwitter about bread, cheese, and other foods toddlers sometimes forget to reject

I turned her post-nap snack into a muffin tin meal as she'd refused to eat lunch. She's been sick, so I stacked the deck with things I thought she'd eat. She ate the pineapple, and quite a few cheesy pita pieces! I even had to reload. Despite adding a ton of honey to the plain yogurt, it was a no-go. Duh.

Stella’s best buddy is a sweetie-pie of a kid who sits peacefully in his high chair (or even a shopping cart) for long stretches. He is breastfed. He happily and without urging will eat anything that his very dedicated and health- and eco-conscious mom puts in front of him. He’ll use a toothpick to precisely nab chunks of plain, steamed broccoli or carrot and dip it into his little bowl of 100% healthy and amazing Almond Ginger Drizzle dipping sauce, and go back for more. Then he’ll eat plain yogurt as a side dish, and move on to polish off  the leftover avocado from lunch, and a few pieces of chicken and suddenly, he’s chowing down on brown rice.  He also wakes up several times a night. His mom is lucky to get one three-hour stretch of sleep each night.

Stella has about a five-minute highchair or shopping cart seating limit, won’t even touch a food that’s been offered to her previously the same day (even if she loved it), gets impatient with a fork (nevermind a toothpick) so will quickly resort to eating mac and cheese by the fistful, and regards plain yogurt as a form of shiver-inducing torture. She also (92% of the time) sleeps through the night. She and her bud are both happy and healthy. They both have areas that are challenging. I try not to compare them, but relish the sometimes hilarious differences. It’s hard not to smile in amazement at their wildly different temperaments, which somehow go together perfectly. Just like Almond Ginger Drizzle and broccoli.

Because I do have to put in a bit of an extra effort to provide Stella with an adequate, healthy-ish diet, and more so because I absolutely love to waste time, I actually have a second Twitter account. I use the ambitiously named Toddler Recipes Twitter front for the purpose of sharing any possibly helpful toddler feeding “tips.” It’s just that whenever I find a new snack or meal for Stella, or ways to make existing snacks and meals healthier or somehow better, I want to share such revelations. Instead of just dancing alone in my kitchen.

Some of my suggestions, all of which are based on my own feeding successes with one storied little eater, are really odd. Like, a couple times a week, I bake a sweet potato while Stella naps (poke holes in it with a fork, pop it in a 425-degree oven on a baking sheet lined with foil for about an hour). After she’s had some time to fully wake up and play, I peel it and pop it in the food processor and start handing her spoonfuls. It’s still warm. It’s incredibly sweet. And because of the way all of this unfolds, it’s an event! She asks for more, more, more. On Saturday, she ate most of an entire medium-sized sweet potato (or is it a yam?) and I was so pathetically happy I almost burst, but I didn’t, because I’d made a big enough mess already. I’d compare the pride and thrill I felt to that of getting a large raise. I wish I were kidding. I can now fill a ramekin with the puree and put it on her little table and she’ll scoop away, eating most of it with glee. The point? Toddlers are weird. Don’t be afraid to try random outside-the-highchair ideas. Whatever works, man. Whatever works.

Admittedly, many tips are really obvious but may be easy to overlook when you’re busy trying not to go insane. Cut up a 100% whole wheat pita pocket into quarters, pop a piece of cheddar into each (I often splurge on raw cheddar), toast for a few minutes, and voila! “Cheesy pitas’ that can be cut up into little, appealing bite-sized shapes, like pterodactyl, or the always-popular triangle. Use mozzarella and tomato sauce to transform grilled cheese into a worthy foe for pizza. If you’re feeling ballsy, throw some veggie in there! No, not all my ideas involve bread and cheese. Though I do think that good quality whole wheat bread and decent cheese can take a picky-ish kid far. Really, some of my tweets involve… (wait for it)… carrots! On rare occasions, spinach! Once in a while, I’ll just remind people to not force things, simply to “offer.” And definitely don’t obsess. Because I need to re-tell myself these very things from time to time.

Of course, she went straight for the turkey bacon. It's uncured, organic, yadda yadda. Just don't compare it to real bacon and it's delicious.

I have to retract at least part of my previous endorsement for Super Baby Food. It always felt like a bit too much work to be sustainable… too much thinking. The best ideas are fun, and don’t require spreadsheets for tracking and planning purposes. “Let’s chart Stella’s vitamin A intake, shall we?” UGH. Anyway, case in point: A long time ago, I stumbled across the idea of “muffin tin meals” on a friend’s wonderful craft-centric blog: Well I’ll Be a Monkey’s Mama. Now that Stella is old enough to not immediately grab any nearby container and dump its contents on the floor (usually), I decided to give it a try. I needed to do something, because we’re in the midst of a very rough eating stretch, due to nagging illness. During our recent ER visit, I learned that Stella lost a pound during her first cold in April.The 20-month-old girl whose 18-month-sized jeans are so baggy, I have to round up a search party to find her butt for diaper changes. Well, she’s a week into her second nasty affliction this month and that means that after weeks of weight loss, she’s still eating notably less than usual. Anyway, I think the muffin tin magic did help. At the very least, I felt better knowing I’d made a little bit of an effort without pressuring Stella to eat in any way. She didn’t polish it all off (no surprise there), but she actually sat down at her little table to eat, after noticing it and announcing her intention to “Sit DOWN!” I’m chalking it up as little victory–one of the many that I am too pumped about not to share on Twitter or with anyone who will listen.

In closing, a confession. Sometimes, I purposefully don’t put in too much effort when it comes to Stella’s meals. Especially with our feeding history, it’s incredibly deflating to spend significant energy and time on planning and cooking, only to have Stella eat zero point zero percent of what I’ve lovingly prepared. I pick my battles. I invest time where I think it will pay off. And once in a while, I take Stella out for ice cream and just enjoy life and eating without worrying or trying at all. Sometimes, that’s the very best recipe.

No acute abnormalities.

This is part of a new segment I’m calling “Eye on Stella: Strabismus Watch 2010.” Sorry. I just thought that was kind of funny. And I’m running with any humor I can find these days.

The ER, whose job it is to save lives and not provide conclusive diagnoses, called Stella’s condition “convergence spasms.” A quick google search on this term terrified me (apparently, in some cases it’s brought on by hysteria–Stella’s tantrums aren’t THAT bad), and thankfully led me in another direction. After some research, and due to the nature of what actually happens to Stella’s eyes on occasion, I’m convinced that they’re incorrect. My theory is that Stella has the treatable, relatively common condition known as intermittent strabmismus, known to flare up during times of stress, fatigue, or illness. Of course, last time I checked I was a stay-at-home mom and copywriter–not an ophthalmologist. Though, I did diagnose my husband with photography-induced crazy-eye. Nailed that one.

So, last Friday. It was:

The culmination of a week during which Stella barely ate and lost a whole pound of weight (at least), due to a bastard of a cold entailing massive congestion and a cough that could drown out a chainsaw.

The day Stella may have bumped her head on the window sill in the kitchen. I was making lunch, heard a scream, and only saw what happened out of the corner of my eye.

When her eyes rolled in severely, a total of ten times by 11pm for two to ten minutes per spell. When this happened, she couldn’t see remotely straight.

The evening we headed to her doctor’s office having snagged the last appointment of the day, waited as they paged neurology at Children’s, then headed to the ER, where they awaited our arrival and Stella was not allowed to eat or drink for several hours and underwent a head CT scan that showed “no acute abnormalities.”

Since that day, I’ve been carrying around a feeling that threatens to burst my chest. It ebbs and flows. It makes me cry, sometimes. It makes me think about what-if’s and the meaning of life. It makes me wonder, once again, if I’m strong enough to survive parenthood. But I can’t quite pinpoint it. It’s too vague and all-encompassing to grasp. So I keep wondering what it is. I don’t think it’s as simple as “anxiety” or “fear.” It’s something to do with those. But more do to with love. It is absolutely huge and it is always there, probably in every parent, but right now it’s much too close to the surface. Which makes it hard to function.

On the other hand, after unthinkable tumors and lesions and brain bleeding were ruled out, I am obviously extremely relieved that the issue appears to be isolated to her eyes–or more specifically the muscles that control her eyes. If I’m right and it’s strabismus, early intervention ensures an excellent prognosis, ideally achieved through vision therapy (eye exercises) and maybe a patch to strengthen the weaker eye (which seems to be her right one). But I’m having a hard time as we navigate the two weeks that separate us from her ophthalmology appointment at Children’s Hospital. Every time she cries or screams in frustration or stares off into space or rubs her eye or refuses to nap or has a tantrum, I feel a contained form of panic rise up and I’m gripped by a question that is more of an all-encompassing mentality: What is wrong? This is a terrible way to live, really. A mode of existence encouraged by the worst-case-scenario culture of the internet, where I spend too much time. It’s a way of being that I am familiar with, as a worrywart by nature and having gone through Stella’s feeding aversion with her, but it’s currently heightened. Maybe there’s a touch of PTSD-like trauma from our tube days. Following Friday’s scare, I jump too quickly to the idea of wrongness. But! There are also times in which I see more clearly and with more appreciation everything that is right. The contrast between the two is sharp. It makes me ache.

I sometimes wonder what is wrong with me, and the way I see–the world and myself. Why is this all so hard for me? Why am I so jumpy around Stella since Friday? Why does it sometimes feel as if I walk on eggshells through life and motherhood?

As I sit here, I’m afraid of the radiation of her CT scan (ugh, do I remember correctly that they had to run it twice? why didn’t they work with us to keep her still in order to get it right on the first try?) and of an admittedly imagined potential for vision loss (could this nebulous eye issue make life harder for Stella?). Since Friday, I’ve seen her right eye drift in very briefly a couple times, and it jolts my entire nervous system like an electrical current. I’m disturbed when I see her eyes misaligned, not because she is any less beautiful or sweet for it, but because it’s a signal that something is likely amiss with my baby–something I don’t understand. What’s causing it? What does it mean? How will it affect her? My mind fills in the blanks, creating scenarios and possibilities with whatever is lying around: fear, anxiety, hope, and love so strong I can hardly bear it sometimes.

Back when Stella wouldn’t eat, I always felt 100% convinced that in the end, she would be just fine. Beneath all the panic was a kernel of certainty. It’s still there.