Oatmeal used to be just as easy, with the exception that I would feed it to her. I felt so motherly, gathering up a yummy, nutritious breakfast for the two of us, setting our little corner of the table, tucking the bib around her soft, cute neck, then encouraging her to fold her arms and bow her head as we said a short blessing on the food.
After we were both ready, I would feed her small bites of that oatmeal she'd been waiting for all morning. She would jibber jabber lovingly with me, I would look adoringly at her, and, every now and then, I would sneak her a bite of my cereal, because I was a cool mom. Ahhhh, those perfect moments.
Then. Then, the independence kicked in.
A few mornings ago, she had oatmeal again for breakfast. Once everything was ready, I scooped up a baby bite of oatmeal, tested its temperature on my lips, and held it out winsomely for the wee one to eat.
"Ah bih-boh!" She swung her hands demandingly at the spoon.
"Okay, okay, I gotcha. Here. Eat it." I handed the spoon to her which, like someone shoveling coal into an engine, she hurtled into her mouth. Great! Success.
"Kay, babe, I'll get you some more." I held my hand out for the spoon to reload it for her.
"AAaa! Uh buhba bah." Her yell of protest was followed by a very definitive point to her tray. No, Mommy. Put the plate RIGHT HERE.
*Sigh* I'm in for it now. Whatever. Fine.
"Here you go. Please eat it with your spoon."
Cheerfully she complied. While I stood up to fix a bowl of cereal for myself, her not-as-chubby-as-they-used-to-be hands brought a decent number of bites to the general area around her mouth. But by the time I started back to the table, things started to change.
The spoon was tilted funny. The oatmeal wouldn't quite stick. It was yummy, and she wanted it, but it wasn't making it into her tummy. Her ingenious solution? Yes. Fingers. Never really thought of oatmeal as a finger food until Cambrie.
And now I was left with the same trivial battle I get into every time she eats.
Agh! Fingers are fine to start, but if she keeps going, soon I will be cleaning oatmeal out of her ears with a cue tip. But I have to let her learn how to use the spoon, I suppose, and if I don't, she'll never feel confident learning anything herself. On the other hand, I also have to teach her table manners, and if I don't do that, I'll have a harder time teaching her down the road. But you know what? Right now I don't even care about "down the road"--I just selfishly want to avoid giving her an impromptu bath in the sink after breakfast, AGAIN. Ugh. You know what? I'll just let 'er go at it. A dirty baby is a happy baby, right?
And so she does. While she dug and shoveled and finger-ed away, I resignedly ate my cereal. But this was not the end.
"Uh buhdah bah?" She waved her sticky finger at my cereal. Well, I knew it was coming. I scooped up some of my cereal, let most of the milk drain back into my bowl, then plopped it on her plate. She poked it around a little with her spoon before setting the utensil aside. Did you know soggy cereal is a finger food, too?
And so we finished our morning meal together. All in all, I was impressed--her fingers, hands and face were a mess and her tray was atrocious, but that was really all the damage.
"Ahh, buh dacackah. Buh BAH! BAH!" Cambrie chattered happily to me, to herself, and to the chirping birds outside. You know, I really have it pretty great. A happy, adorable baby who eats well, learns quickly, and loves the world around her. Life is good.
As though she could read my thoughts, Cambrie lifted her head in a joyful, jubilant grin and clapped. If you're happy and you know it... After those merry claps, with barely a half a second for me to intervene, those sticky, milky, happy hands swung back to grab two, big patches of her hair. The birds stopped singing. I wondered why I ever wished her hair would grow longer.
"Okay, babe, you're done." And I lugged my cheerful baby over to the sink for her impromptu morning bath.
4 comments:
LOL! But these are the moments Stephanie :)
I remember those ays with my girls, and they are fast approaching with G man now. I hate themesses, but there is really nothing like the smile of a messy faced kid perfectly content. That is until it's time for clean up. Unless of course that means they get to take a bath. Ohh the joys of motherhood. Enjoy them, they go by so quickly.
Don't worry, you'll figure out a clever solution to all these little dilemmas. Then #2 will come, and all the rules will change. Do you remember the parents curse? Hehehehe
Lincoln LOVES oatmeal but likes to eat on his own, so he eats it with his hands. More ends up in his lap than in his mouth, but he loves it, and I love letting him do it on his own so I don't have to. Works out in the end, even if you do have to throw an extra bath in there.
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