|HERE'S MY PIGGLY, PRETENDING to give a crap about feeding while putting us in a trance with her innocent little doe eyes. You can't tell me that's not deliberate.|
I don't usually miss Brampton's Canada Day celebrations, but this year I did, for two great reasons. The first being that I would rather stand naked beside Jillian Michaels than risk running into Brampton's disgraceful Mayor Susan Fennell, because I'm seriously afraid of what my moron editor would let me say to her. The second being my tiny perfect grandbaby, Piggly Wiggly.
This weekend I enjoyed not one but two visits within three days, two-hour-drive notwithstanding, because I'm addicted. And because it was her mom's birthday and she and her husband sorely needed a night out. And especially because Piggly is still having some feeding issues that none of us can seem to resolve or stop obsessing over. In fact, on Friday my daughter texted me: "For my bday all I want is mother's magical feeding tactics :-)"
She was kidding, sort of, but I took it seriously and began feverishly studying up for my playdate. I read websites, I consulted friends, I consulted experts, I bought books, I even resorted to putting a generous tot of Grey Goose in the baby's bottle. And then drinking it myself. (What, you thought I was gonna pour booze into my baby? What are you, drunk?) I knew Piggly's mom needed this day out more than she knew, and I wanted her to enjoy every precious moment of it. I wanted her to come home to a milk-sated infant sleeping like a lamb, I wanted her to say "Omigod, Mother, you're AMAZING!"
The end result was moderately to not-at-all successful, because Piggly showed about negative zero interest in the bottle, her mom texted incessantly to ask "How is my baby?" and the first words out of her mouth upon returning from her "relaxing" night out were "I need to hold her." Proving you can take the mom away from the Piggly but she'll find her way back as fast as she damn well can. And also proving that Piggly Wiggly is addictive.
As for the feeding problems, well, I'm sure they'll eventually settle themselves. Such as when she has enough teeth to eat pizza — my God, who could resist that? — or, even better, when she gets old enough to drink with her Glamma. Which might have happened already. Maybe. I can neither confirm nor deny it.