Bottle, baby - video

Above is the video corresponding to my last blog entry. Since then, he has taken the bottle from us, no problem, and it is such a relief. I won't lie though. Each time I'm about to feed him, my nerves get the best of me as I get mentally prepared to play Bottle vs. Tristan like we have hundreds of times before. But each time I find that there's no battle to fight, and he just drinks like a normal happy baby.

It's been months in the making, but we are finally officially moving on Saturday out of our tiny 2 bedroom apartment onto the greener pastures of the Parkside District. We are extremely lucky to have a house to live in, and it's full circle to raise my child in the home that I was raised in. But I can't help but mourn the loss of the first place I began to create my own little family. It started with a relationship, which evolved into a marriage, which grew into a baby. For the past four years, Joe and I have hosted all our friends, stayed up long nights, watch lots of reality tv, and began raising a baby. It was Tristan's first home, as it was ours together. And I got a little choked up tonight, cooking a batch of spaghetti, knowing this was the last time I was going to cook in this kitchen. Change can be great, especially in this case, because it will give Tristan a place to run around and grow with. But I'll never forget bringing him home from CPMC to this apartment. The beginning of my life as a mother began here, and I hope I never forget that feeling. But you know what I'll miss the most...May Wah! I kid you not. Being 3 blocks away from practically any ingredient you need is a cook's dream. It spoiled me. Now I have to drive to the nearest store. Soon my leg muscles will all go through atrophy and turn to mush because I'll never walk anywhere ever again. Then I'll be no better than those LA girls I make fun of all the time.

Goodbye, Clement Street. You've been good to us.

Bottle, Baby!

Babycenter.com says that babies don't self-wean until they're over 2 years old. Babycenter.com has obviously not met Tristan Dea Marshman.

Three days ago, Tristan decided to deny nursing at night. I don't know why, I mean, it's not like the kid talks. So I had no idea what to do about it because I didn't know the reason. And then the swirling emotions of mother-guilt began to plague me. What was I doing wrong? What about our special bonding together? So then we tried the bottle, which of course he refused as well. Then panic set in. No nursing, and no bottle. He'd shrivel up like a little shrinky dink in no time! But he'd throw that bottle away like it was filled to the brim with poison.

Until today.

This morning, I sat him on the kitchen counter facing me, and stuck a bottle of formula in his mouth. He took it. And I fed him, my eyes wide and heart elated at 6:30am. Who can ever remember feeling overjoyed at 6:30am? I sure can't remember a time. But today, I was. Overjoyed doesn't even do it justice. This was the FIRST time he had ever taken a bottle from me. First time ever in his teeny little lifetime. But Tristan can be a big ol' tease. So I decided not to get my hopes up.

Tonight, he took another bottle, this time from Joe. I'd show you the video, but of course youtube uploading is down right now. I'll be sure to upload it tomorrow.

I will miss nursing him. It was our time to be still, to be one. But between the biting (ouch!) and the inconvenient pumping at work, I think I'll easily transition to not nursing. I lasted 10 months. Not a bad go in my opinion.

Now I'll have to find other ways to trick him into cuddling with me.