My case for not using baby food

I love our pediatrician. She's snarky and obnoxious, answers her cell phone rolling her eyes already at the idjiot parent that will certainly be on the other end and hardly ever makes eye contact with Andrea, even though he's as primary a caregiver as I am. BUT (I'm sure you were hoping there was one, or else I'm just a masochist), she's genius. Ahead of the times, and we trust 99.9% of the very updated information she offers us, despite the belittling tone it arrives in.

The most important of these tidbits of information had to do with weaning Sofia. When we showed up in her office for Sofia's 5-month visit, she pulled out a piece of paper and started writing down the Mediterranean food pyramid and the name of a really awesome book, "Io Mi Svezzo da Solo" ("I can wean myself!" - still haven't been able to find an English translation of it though) by Lucio Piermarini. The idea of it is similar to the US/UK "Baby-led Weaning":

1. waiting the full 6 months as recommended to start weaning, then allowing baby to eat what you eat (assuming a healthy, well-rounded diet for yourself, obviously)

2. allowing baby, when possible, to use his/her own hands to feed himself

3. not pureeing everything but making them the right bite sizes, at least until baby gets used to feeling him/herself and texture

4. not forcing, ever: baby will turn his/her head when satiated, respect that

5. not making food an issue: the more you push, the more it will become baby's only form of manipulation/power

6. continuing with breastmilk/formula as part of the meal for as long as baby is interested

Andrea and I are hesitant to call ourselves "successful" in any area of parenting, but with this one, we feel we can. Sofia is an amazing eater - will try anything, eats really healthily and enjoys mealtime. We have never had a struggle with her about food, in any way, shape or form. And we give the credit to this method and, in turn, to our crazy pediatrician.

The Early Days

I've never really openly talked about how difficult the first few months (year?) of Sofia's life were, but I read an awesome post today speaking out against judging women for breastfeeding or not, and a whole mess of emotions came flooding back, reminding me of those way-back-when days. Though, as fresh as the emotions felt, I guess they're not really all that way-back-when.

Sofia was due on June 15th. After a week of Nada, my Ob/Gyn decided to have me induced. I wasn't all that happy about it, but at least we'd be getting a move on. Monday, we checked ourselves into the hospital, but by Wednesday evening, despite several painful attempts at induction, still Nada. Overdue Day 10 was the next day, June 25th, and it was time. I cried a lot that evening: Andrea and I had read books, taken courses, talked to friends. We'd psyched ourselves up for natural childbirth. And now...now that was all flying out the window. But, my awesome husband reminded me that, just 20 years ago, both the baby and I would probably not have even made it, and so we picked ourselves up and looked on the bright side.

Fast-forward to post-birth. Me in pain from not eating since my Monday hospital arrival, just having undergone a C-section, with a husband who'd slept on a chair for 3 nights straight, in a hospital without a nursery, favoring "rooming in" (which, by the way, I totally *get* and, under normal conditions, would have been completely in favor of -- in my situation, though, I/we could have used a couple hours rest). And a baby who wasn't all that into sleeping - what, after having tried to break out of Fort Knox for the past 3 days, to no avail. She was probably (rightfully) pissed!

I won't go through every single detail now, but things progressed fairly badly. I was in pain and recovering, Andrea was flailing. It was HOT at the end of June and we had a LOT of visitors in the hospital, neither of us strong enough to beg for some privacy. And then...there were the breastfeeding issues.

Sofia was and is a *hungry* baby. And so, despite seemingly latching on properly (even my lactatian consultant said so, we went to her every Friday morning!), she destroyed me, literally - my doctor actually sent me to a plastic surgeon at one point to see if I needed fixing up. I got two consecutive cases of mastitis and dreaded, dreaded, dreaded feeding time.

After a month of all this pain and suffering, Andrea and I decided it would be best to start pumping. And so that started, and I continued (with, however, undo pressure put on myself, in hindsight) for 10 months -- regardless of where I was, what we had to do, time of day, my needs...pumping came first, for 10 full months. I would pump and, often, Andrea would feed Sofia. And feeding time became their bonding time.

There was a day back in the beginning where I realized at about 8pm at night that I hadn't put my glasses on all day, while I normally wear them at all hours. There were times when I would dread being alone with Sofia because I felt inept, incapable, afraid. Sometimes, Andrea will bring up something that went on those first few weeks and I recall nothing. Maybe it was the fever from the mastitis, maybe it was depression or simply me being all up in my head, trying to take it all in, from the inside-out. Whatever it was, Sofia and I got off to a rocky start. And so, even more reason to rejoice where we are now - as full of obstacles as the road has been, and continues to be (um, still not fully sleeping...), we've come a long way, baby!

Getting to know Sofia

Name: Sofia Esther

Nickname/s: Peanut, Princess Poopie, Poopie, Principessa, Sweet P(ea)

Age: 21 months, 4 days

Sign: Cancer

Favorite toy: Papa'! Also, my doll Kelly and her stroller, cooking utensils, my play house and kitchen, books

Favorite food: I'll eat almost anything, but pizza's pretty high on the list

Best personality trait: My brilliant sense of humor

Toughest personality trait: Hard-as-a-rock stubborn

Favorite book/s: Caps for Sale, Curious George and the Puppies, Goodnight Moon, Ho Caldo!, Clifford the Big Red Dog

Best friend/s: Papa'! At daycare, Vicki and Costanza

My favorite thing to do: Anything with Papa'! (are you catching the theme here?) I also really enjoy eating and exploring and watching youtube videos of horseback riding

Favorite piece of clothing: my black glow-in-the-dark demon onesie (I kid you not, people)

Favorite kind of music: I like music and love to boogie, and enjoy jazz especially

What I hate: Hands down, being told what to do.

What scares me: Sometimes when Papa' unexpectedly sneezes really loudly!

Shy or extroverted?: Extroverted

Goings on

Here's a pic of the little one dressed up as a ladybug for her daycare Carnival party. Need I even bother saying how adorable she looked?

As I write this, Sofia is with Andrea's parents - Sunday mornings with her nonni have become tradition -- a win/win situation as Andrea and I manage to actually clean the house and have a leisurely breakfast alone. She's been very busy and, thankfully, is feeling much better (KNOCK. ON. WOOD....LOUDLY) and all of us being back in the normal swing of life makes things much easier on everyone. Who says it's only babies who need routine!?!

Some of Peanut's recent endeavors/news:

1. Talkin'!
She's not a huge talker yet...nah, scratch that, she would LIKE to be, but often she will say something that sounds like "anserrkffgdagggg" and Andrea and I will stare at each other, searching out one another's face for signs of recognition. Was it Italian? Was it English? Was it Swahili? She's got a decent vocab going, when we do manage to make the meaning out, though. Some new ones to add to her constants of Papa', Mamma (finally!), Up and Ciuccio (paci)...

Boots
Latte ("milk" in Italian -- not like a coffee "latte" - that would just be plain masochism!)
Questo ("this" in Italian)
This
Nanna ("sleep" in Italian baby talk --ohhh, the irony!)
Basta! ("Stop!" or "Enough!" in Italian...oh boy...!)

She's also started calling animals by their sounds. Dogs are "Bow!", Elephants are lifting-up-your-arm-like-a-trunk-and-yelling-"Eeeeyyyy", Horses are "eeehehehee" and Cats are "Bow!" (ok, so when in doubt, she uses "bow").

2. She understands more than we'd like her to
As I read in a parenting blog recently, one day your child will actually start to go to the door when you say "Go to the door" and you will think "Did he just understand me, or am I dreaming?" This now happens on a daily basis.

I hate to boast, but Sofia is a genius. Dangerously so. She knooooows what we're talking about, and she remembers things for incredibly long periods of time. And it's funny how the parental divide makes the difference in how people react to this fact: non-parents tell me how awesome it is, other parents shake their heads in a "ohhh you poor things!" pity-filled sort of way. Andrea and I, on the other hand, are sort of middle of the road between both camps.

3. Mi, Me, Mio, Mine...
Probably because the older kids at daycare are doing it, Sofia's started her "Miiiiiine!" stage. She doesn't do it with us, but when, for example, our neighbor brought her 18-month-old son over for a playdate, Sofia freaked the heck out at how he played with her toys. Hopefully this stage will pass soon - it's not very pretty.

4. Temper, temper!
Speaking of stages that aren't very pretty, I present you with: toddler tantrums! They are HORRIBLE. Truly frustrating. Like, they should take the title away from Mother Theresa because she never had her own kids and we don't know how she would have dealt with their temper tantrums, frustrating (did anyone just follow that sentence?).

Papa' and Mommy have different styles for dealing with these. Papa' is the kinder, more patient of Sofia's parents and so he tends to get down on her level and soothe her. "This actually works!" cries myself, surprised. It does not, however, enter into my own personal "Abilities Under Stress" category so, while I do try this solution once in a while (read: when I've just had a cup of coffee), often I say no and quickly explain why and then ignore her. Ok, that's a lie - usually it's more than once, as I desperately hope she will have a sudden maturity spurt and reply with a well-thought-out "You're right, Mommy, I don't really *need* to put the dirty soap in my mouth!"

Being as that hasn't happened yet, I generally revert to ignoring her.

5. Getting the joke
Sometimes I hear Sofia laughing from the other room, and when I go in, I realize that whatever it is that's making her laugh is in her own head. She's a funny one - one of my favorite things about Sofia is how she really does "get" the joke, always has. Comedic Peanut.


6. Sleep issues, con't
Of course, no post from me would be complete without sleep deprivation complaining (I'll admit it, when she finally does sleep, I'm not going to know what to talk about anymore). Still more problems. It seems to be Sleep 2 nights, Scream 1 night, Sleep 1 night, Scream 1 night, Sleep 3 nights, Scream 1 night. I guess I should just be thankful it's not Sleep 0 nights, Scream 9 nights. Doesn't matter, my body is (scarily) getting used to functioning on anxiety-sparked adrenaline.


So, on that note: Have a Restful Sunday!!

This too shall pass. Right?

People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one. ~Leo J. Burke

I love my daughter, but between the hours of 3am and 6am for the past 10 days, she's become my worst enemy. Right now we're in the middle of a major (read: debilitating) sleep regression caused by a pretty painful case of separation anxiety.

Yes, I'm throwing around baby-themed psycho-babble (I tend to do that when I'm sleep deprived). What all this means is that we've had ten days of either around 2 hours of banshee screaming per night (to the joy of our wall-banging neighbors), or else she does manage to sleep but is ready to get up for the day at between 5:30 and 6am.

Not so ideal.

Our precious daughter is amazing at many things, but sleep is not one of them, as I assume you've been able to gather from this blog. I can't quite stress how tired I am of talking and obsessing about just how tired I am (So STOP, you say -- ha, if it were so easy. If I were to stop, I might implode from the desperation of it all).

Not sleeping makes you a crazy person: a caffeine addict who can't quite focus 100% on the day ahead of you (me) or literally starts falling asleep - like, deep sleep - at the dinner table, in the middle of a sentence (Andrea). Not sleeping makes you say mean things you don't mean to your partner, makes you happy as an upstream salmon to go to work in the morning to take a step away, makes you fear Friday as it means there will be no daycare to help with baby's naptime since she refuses on weekends. It makes you sad, out of control and, mainly, not really a very nice or very present person.

And so, here's my message to my Peanut, which I trust she will receive somehow (if I know my girl, she has her ways):

Dear Peanut,

We love you, but you're killin us.

Love,
Mommy and Papa'

p.s. if you don't start sleeping, we're going to have to take away your cookie priveleges.