Having already experienced years one through three with a boy child, I thought I might be better prepared for this second baby. But oh, rookie mistakes abound.
For instance, we have tried to have the babysitter give Jamie a bottle exactly twice, which is exactly the number of times we have left the house without him for a “date” (quotes because the “dates” were fundraising events for local good causes, and we didn’t exactly have QT together). Both of these “dates” were past the three month mark and were made possible by the best babysitter ever, no I don’t want to share, don’t ask me for her number.
Perhaps predictably, Jamie refused the bottle both times. I say “predictably,” but what I mean is, “I had no f***ing clue this would happen, Charles always ate no matter the delivery method.” But other people predicted it for me. “You mean you have never given your son a bottle? I bet he won’t take it from the babysitter.”
In a DUH moment, I realized that his summary rejection of all things pacifier probably translates perfectly to his rejection of the bottle. After all, they are pretty much the same thing, only one dispenses milk, while the other frustrates the hell out of hungry babies (what? Does your baby use a pacifier for soothing? I don’t want to hear about it). So, I had myself a good cry after Jamie drained me when I got home last night, thinking that he might never let us have a night out alone because he can’t drink from a bottle. And by “never” I mean “until he eats solid food, which I realize isn’t that far away but still seems like a really long time.”
What I should have done was give him one bottle a week from the very beginning just to get him used to it. Instead, tonight we are taking Jamie with us out to dinner while Charles stays home with the babysitter. Let this be a warning to any new moms: start a bottle early lest you be permanently attached to your infant. Unless, of course, you have better, more considerate children than I do who easily switch from breast to bottle at any point in their development.
Another rookie mistake: not recognizing the signs of teething. Increased drooling and slobbering? Check. Change in poopy diapers? Check. Gnawing on everything, from shoulders to fingers (his and others’) to toys? Check. Fussiness complete with shrieking that redefines the word “shrill?” Check. Little tooth nubbins? I didn’t notice those until the fourth or fifth day of all the other symptoms. Mom of the Year. My poor kid could have been spared the pain of teething with liberal doses of infant Tylenol, but no.
Get it together, mom.