It was very red.
It was very red.
So I guess we’re committed to this solid food thing now; there’s no going back! Tonight the babies had six ounces each, splitting a jar of sweet potato, corn, and apple puree, one of spinach and potato, and half a mashed banana. We’ve been bringing the highchairs to the table while we eat breakfast. Yesterday we had oatmeal and they had oatmeal and some mashed banana. It’s pretty fun.
Today we discovered that Bean hates yogurt. She cried the moment it hit her lips and kept it up each time we tried to offer the spoon. Even the smell of it seemed offensive to her. Mattie liked it okay. We’ll try it again some other time. It is, after all, a completely new food group. Here are the foods they’ve tried so far:
Not a bad list. So far everything has been mashed, though they seem to be tolerating textures better. Also, they clearly want to feed themselves. They grab the spoons and practice putting them in their mouths, they grab at the bowls and jars; their little hands are itching for action. I think finger foods are in our near future.
These babies are no longer infants. Seven and a half months old. I see them now, their round, happy faces. Squealing with delight at being tickled, at recognizing Mommy or Daddy, at having their hands and cheeks kissed. Sticking their feet in the air and grabbing their toes, rolling over to grab a toy, sitting up, talking excitedly, banging their spoons on the highchair tray, devouring spoonfuls of food. Apple cheeked. Beautiful.
This morning D walked into the living room, we had just put the babies down for a nap. “I keep remembering [M] in the isolette,” he said.
I knew what he meant. I also keep having flashbacks to when they were in the NICU. “She was breathing so fast,” he said. I remember. Her tiny chest heaving under the blue light, tube in her nose, eyes covered, a bit of foam at the mouth, crying soundlessly.
“I can’t believe that was her.”
“She’s so happy now.”
So they weren’t lying. There really is a lot of poop. I didn’t see the big deal before, when the babies were exclusively breastfed. But now that we’ve introduced solids. …we need a better diaper disposal system.
Two days ago we gave the babies each a little jar of prunes and oatmeal. It lives on.
The smell. The sicky, off-sweet prune stink clinging to those tiny wiped and re-wiped behinds, to fleece pajamas, to my offended nose hairs. The whole nursery is completely offensive. No diaper pail could contain this. The SMELL will not be kept down. I feel bad putting the babies to sleep in a room that smells like poop. (Apparently, disgust at rotten smells is learned…but still.)
Our landlady got rid of the garbage can for our building because, she said, everyone put trash in the pail, but no one wanted to put it out on the curb. So we have twice a week garbage collection and no outside bin. There will be no more prunes, I’ll tell you that.
And another thing, I don’t think I’ll be one of those parents who lets their kids go as long as they want in diapers, “until they’re ready.” As soon as they’re capable of moving themselves to the toilet it will be time.
This man/woman/crab/god demands respect. He beckons us with his other-worldly smile. Closer now, we see distorted light, but can make no sense of his signs. We reach toward him, but he dodges and weaves. [Rattle-snap!] Retreat, retreat!
We will keep our distance, for now.
Signed, your intrepid
Space Monkey Twins
So today I composed a blog about baby poop…then it occurred to me that this being Christmas Eve, maybe that wasn’t really in the spirit of the season. So instead of baby poop I’m going to take a moment to give thanks. Here is a (by no means exhaustive) list of things I’m thankful for:
I’m thankful for my husband, D. We spent the last hour in the kitchen, alternating who got to choose the next song to listen to on Spotify. We have so many songs. We get each other.
I’m thankful for the babies.
I’m thankful for my family.
I’m thankful for city parks. Today I took a walk through Sunset Park to Green-wood Cemetery, and the few moments I spent there, watching the wind blow across the lake, grounded me.
I’m thankful for art, for poetry, for great writing, for music. I’m thankful I can share the art with people I love.
I could go on. I’m thankful for this cozy house, all these things around me, the little Christmas tree, the cards from family and friends on the mantel, the paintings on the walls from family members. I’m thankful for my friends.
Now that I’ve made this list, I’m feeling pretty lucky. I’ll save the poop post for another day. Merry Christmas.
And also, if you feel like it in the comments, what are you thankful for? It feels good to think about.
Here is a quick sketch of M in the exersaucer. She kept swiveling all around to suck on the sun rattle, press the animal-noise buttons, move the breads on their track. Then she’d turn back to find me still there watching her, and smile her gorgeous, face-lighting smile.