Monday, March 7, 2011

No way to boil this down to a quote

I left to pick up Rachel from "Othello" dress rehearsal a little bit before Dora was supposed to get her next bottle. In a moment of ditz, I didn't make the bottle before I left.

I'd been waiting at the school for 15 minutes when I thought it was past time to call the house and check on Dora. She was at the house with Charlie (who still can't walk much without getting winded) and her uncles... neither of whom has much skill with babies.

No one answered the first call. John answered on the second ring of the second call. In the background I could hear Dora screaming. John was in overload due to the crying and his inability to find Dora's pacifier with the confusion of all the noise. I asked him to give the phone to Daniel.

I thought talking Daniel through making a bottle would be an easy thing. I'd forgotten how many very specific steps are involved... especially for someone who has never done it.

"Okay Daniel, the bottle should be in the drainer by the sink... *pause* find it?"
"You mean the one without a bottom?"
"Yes. Now go to the cabinet where we keep all the baby stuff."
"Which one is that?"
*facepalm* "The tall, skinny one above the microwave."
"Does she get the Enfamil AR?"
"Nope, the Good Start in the big can. But first you need an insert for the bottle."
"Where are those?"
"Second shelf. Brand new, shrink wrapped box. They're called Drop-ins" *30 second pause while I listened to him rustle*
"Okay."
"Did you put it in the bottle?"
"Oh, yeah."
"You also need the box of cereal. It's oatmeal. It has a picture of a baby on the box."
"Okay, 'cause I thought you meant like, cheerios or something.

Meanwhile, I can still hear Dora raising holy heck in the background.

"Now pour in 6 ounces of filtered water from the fr..."
"Hang on. Dad needs me."

5 minutes later, Dora is quiet. The pacifier has been located and she's snuggling with Grandpa.

"Okay, Mom. 6 ounces, right?"
"Yup, 6 ounces of filtered water from the fridge."
"OH. I was just going to pour in 6 ounces of the formula powder."

Rachel was in the car by this point and I literally face palmed in the school parking lot.

"How do you know what's 6 ounces? Oh wait. Never mind, I see it on the bottle."
"Didn't you know? The moment a woman spits a child from her uterus, she can accurately measure any liquid by sight."
"Ha, ha! Okay, now what?"
"Microwave for 30 seconds."

"What? Just the water?"
"You'll put in the formula after the water is warm."
"Now what?"
"3 level scoops of formula."
"You know, someone needs to come up with some kind of manual that tells you how to interpret what a baby wants."
"It's called Experience, Daniel."
"No. I mean, like, for men."

Rachel and I were on our street by now. I hate talking and driving but these were extenuating circumstances. Good thing we were nearly home. Had I been on a busy road, I might have laughed my way into a ditch.

"Did you put in the formula?"
"Yeah."
"Now, and please do this over the sink, pour in cereal until it comes almost to the top."

By this time, we were in the driveway. Rachel moved to get out of the car and I shook my head at her and whispered, "The boy is going to learn to do this and we're not rescuing him before the job is complete."

"Okay, I poured in the cereal."
"Get a cereal spoon and stir it a little."
"Cool, as soon as you stir it, it like, disappears."
"Um... that's because the liquid is absorbing the formula and cereal that was sitting on top of it."
"Oh, yeah."
"Now put the top on. Put your finger over the nipple and shake it about 50 times."
"Okay."
"Thanks."

I hung up and went inside. It was only 13 minutes from start to finish but my brain hurt. When I told Charlie about the 'manual' comment, he said "That's called a wife."



Go easy on him... he's still sick.