One of Those Weeks With an Educated Tongue

Ok well, maybe it hasn’t been a whole week yet, but I’m beginning to feel that this upcoming couple of days could be somewhat difficult. I mean, if the last few days are any indication of what to expect in the future, I’ve got to get some things worked out fast.

Ocean goes through these phases, well, I don’t know if you can call them phases, for they seem to accelerate as she gets older. Some days it’s hard to believe that she could ever be classified as a fussy baby, but others, my God, there’s times I can’t believe my eyes or my ears. You know you’re on the verge of being classified as a drama queen when you stop sucking on your bottle to utter a few whimpers, simply for the added effect they might bring your way.

She has not yet mastered the follow through (give her time, she’s only four months old), for after she utters these whimper’s, she will take a cursory look around, making sure that there is a plethora of concerned faces hovering above her—and then, as if nothing happened, go back to happily sucking her bottle. I am of the belief that within the next couple of months, she will in fact have managed to wrap all the adults in this household around her tiny little fingers, for I am sure that the follow through will be something of the near future.

I am currently practicing my headstands, for I am well aware that when the follow through has reached its full potential, and Ocean engages this Weapon of Mass Destruction, I will become something like a dancing monkey—running around, clapping my hands, and occasionally standing on my head to abort Ocean’s mission of devastation.

At this time, I am concerned for my neck and my sanity—I am not sure how some women decide to do this four or five times. Every morning we get up and get dressed in the cutest of outfits (this helps me to deal with some of my more disheartening moments—I will explain shortly). Upon awakening, it is feeding time--now feeding time is supposed to be one of the most beautiful times a mother can share with her child; this in fact would be true, if my child was not Ocean Caterina.

You see, Ocean has developed what my mother coined, an “educated tongue.” She has found a way to manipulate the nipple out of her mouth using her tongue in the most ingenious of ways. I am quite convinced that she will be one of those women who are able to tie cherry stems in knots with their tongues (yet another thing to give me and her father heart palpitations). So, with this educated tongue deal, a feeding which should take approximately 20-30 minutes lasts for eh, somewhere around an hour. It is accompanied with said whimpers, smiles around her bottle, and various other tricks she has picked up along the way.

Feeding time has come to be known as frustration time, and I have come to realize that this is just the start, dear Lord have mercy. Today’s feedings have been especially frustrating. Ocean is overly tired (she has decided once again that she really doesn’t need to nap), and has extended her whimpering time to maximize its effectiveness.

She is a master at her craft and my hat is off to her, for I found myself tearing up and begging her to “please Ocean, just eat one meal like a normal baby….” I looked down at where my tears were falling to realize that they were landing squarely upon the cutest socks known to man. They are made to look like little ballerina slippers, complete with ribbons and a couple of well placed rhinestones. I started to quiet my sniffles while I took in the rest of the ruffles and pinkness that made up her outfit for the day. I have since decided that my situation (the one which places me on the verge of insanity), is the very reason baby’s clothing is designed to be so incredibly precious.

I was able to calm myself, talking myself back from the brink of hysteria by reminding myself that I cannot allow the most darling of children (and I say that with a smile on my face), dressed in the most adorable of outfits to push me to the point of no return. I have begun to understand and accept her weapon of choice, and am ready to arm myself for any upcoming battles with many, many ruffles and bows… Speaking of which, I hope that one day she can forgive me for this hat.