bottle & monkey business

Shortly after I woke up Mia approached me about playing with a baby spoon. Since I’ve worked really hard to let baby things be baby things and get Mia and Maggie to eat off of regular-sized utensils, I gently told Mia, “no.” She wandered away to play some more.

A little while later I was nursing Mikayla when she appeared in the bedroom.

“Can I have a bottle?” Mia asked me. She was obviously playing pretend but needed my assistance to make it believable. “My daughter, she left her bottle in the car at the softball game and I need to give her another bottle.”

I knew where this would lead. I had gotten a bottle that has the same top as Mikayla’s pacifier so that it would be an easy transition. Mia was infatuated with that bottle.

“No,” I said. “That bottle is special for Mikayla.”

“Please, Mommy?” Mia was tuning up.

My answer remained consistent – that’s what they tell you in the baby books, right?!

“No, Mia. I’m sorry.”

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee ?” Mia whined. “Please is a really nice word! And if you give it to me I’ll tell you thank you, too!”

She’s not above bribing for good manners! At least she knows that please and thank you are desirable, right? Still...

“No.” My answer stayed the same because I am a mean, consistent mom who lives to destroy the happiness of her firstborn.

Mia howled. She was devastated by the thought that her fictional one-year-old was going to be dehydrated at the fictional softball game.

Maggie was attracted by the ruckus. She climbed on the bed talked to Mikayla while Mia screamed.

Mia dramatically collapsed onto the floor, prone and wailing.

Maggie looked at her, looked at me, and then pounced on Mia’s gut from the bed.

Unbelievably, it barely broke Mia’s stride!

Maggie climbed back up for another go at it. I told Maggie to leave Mia alone and gathered Mikayla up. We moved to the living room, Mia’s wails unabated in our wake.

Why didn’t someone tell me that four is the new two when it comes to tantrums?!

Mia picked herself up off the floor to track me through the house with the persistence of a bloodhound. I’d find a new place to rest in relative quiet then, she appeared, tears in her eyes and cheeks red, to look at me like a wounded puppy dog.

She was so sweet it reminded me that I hate to see her cry! I held out my hands for a hug, then, before we even breathed two quiet breathes together I heard, “Please, Mommy? Please, please, please, please, please, please, puh-leeze!”

A deep breath. “Mia, the answer is still no.”

And the wails began again. Sometimes a cry, sometimes the shrill of a siren. Always grating.

Daddy arrived, alerted by the noise that seemed to never stop.

“Mia what’s the problem?” he asked. “Are you having a tough time this morning?”

Mia thought she had an advocate.

“Yes!” she shouted. “She won’t give me a baby bottle and my baby’s only one-year-old!” The tears well up again.

Sigh.

On another, quieter note, Mikayla has hit the point where she can see! We have a Fisher-Price monkey jungle gym that’s seen at least four children in its lifetime (thanks, Tawnia, for sharing it with us!) and she can’t get enough! It squeals and moves and makes monkey sounds while she kicks and coos underneath.

Fun times!

All of this makes me realize that life is... Life. It’s good, it’s bad, it’s lived with no holds barred and hopefully nothing held back.

The good, the bad, the howls, the laughter... It just is. And even when I feel hunted or tired I still know that there’s a good belly laugh around the corner.

I’ve got my eyes peeled for it!