It's What's For Dinner

For the first few months of Baby's adventures in solid foods, he refused bananas consistently until my husband and I finally decided that Baby, unlike most babies, did not like bananas.  In the last few weeks, as if to make up for lost time, when Baby sees a banana in the fruit basket, he points at it with an unparalleled  adamancy. 

Two nights ago, I came home to see my husband feeding Baby dinner.  Baby had not wanted soup.  He had not been interested in turkey, sweet potatoes, peas, or carrots.  He had, instead, chosen a banana for dinner.  When I sat down to join Baby and my husband, Baby had already eaten an entire banana.  

But there was still one banana left in the fruit basket.  He pointed.  I peeled.  And that was dinner.  Two bananas.

Resilience

I swear I have been trying to come up with at least one potentially fun and witty post . . . but then . . .

Baby got sick on Tuesday night.  He called out for us, I went in, and as soon as I got to him, the poor thing puked.  Repeat twice.  We ran out of sheets and crib liners, at which point I said I would just sleep with Baby on the couch in his room.  But sleeping with Baby is, to coin a phrase, like sleeping with a baby elephant, and that couch is small.  So I put Baby on a blanket on the floor, hoping he would not puke again, while I got rid of the couch cushions, pulled out the sofa bed, and got us some covers.  Baby and I snuggled down.  He proceeded to flop around like a confused baby elephant, and an hour later he finally fell asleep.   Baby woke up, flopped, then puked around 7 a.m..  He did it again after half of his oatmeal breakfast.  Then, all was clear through his toast and apple juice lunch and after his nap.  Around 4 p.m., the worst of an awful, gusty, rainy day was over, and we both needed some fresh air.  I took Baby down to a coffee shop where I had some tea and a cookie while he pointed at everything in sight.  I was almost done with my cookie when he puked again.  I jumped up, grabbed a stack of napkins about four inches thick, and tried to clean up Baby, his shirt, and the sleeping-bag-type-thing that keeps him warm in his stroller.  I did my best, but I still felt embarrassed in the elevator up to our apartment with a nice couple who must have smelled a not very nice smell coming from the afore-mentioned sleeping-bag-type-thing.

I should note that Baby (perhaps like all babies) is resilient in a way that puts me to shame.  His expression is so small and sad when he gets sick, but within minutes he is pointing at something else and smiling.  Seriously - smiling. 

Over the next couple of days, Baby slowly but surely stopped puking and started taking more substantive food than toast.  

My husband got sick on Friday night.  He had a fever and felt sick to his stomach.  Then he came to the bathroom just as Baby finished his bath routine, and he puked.  He has not been feeling well since then (though he is better than he was on Friday and Saturday).

I have no kernel of wisdom from this experience to share here.  I am, very simply, very tired (and wondering if - or when - I will get sick, too).