Wednesday, 8 October 2014


baby feeding issues, brampton, piggly wiggly, Thanksgiving, things on piggly wiggly's head,
but she's quite fond of the zero-calorie packaging it comes in.

So many people ask about my grandbaby, Piggly Wiggly, I'm starting to think she needs her own blog. Unfortunately she's a bit young for curse words and bikini shots, but hey, her third birthday isn't far off. (Hurry up, hormones!) Anyway, the short answer to how Piggly is doing is "Sigh." As my own sainted mother used to say, "It's a good thing you kids are so cute or we'd have drowned you years ago." *rereads* Wow. That sounds pretty harsh when you see it in writing. 

These days, life revolves around trying to get Piggly to eat. Honestly, I have never seen a child who is so averse to the basic requirements of staying alive. Without going into detail, she has some complicating health factors and if it weren't for the unwavering efforts of her mother, the child would weigh at eight months exactly what she weighed at birth: a whopping 5 pounds two ounces

I won't lie, it's been a struggle. I mean, I'm only there occasionally and it exhausts me. I can't begin to imagine what her mom is going through on a day-to-day basis. (Although, to be fair, this is the girl who grew up rescuing every friggin lame bird, orphaned squirrel and mentally retarded rabbit that crossed her path. This is a person who, and I kid you not, wept inconsolably when she learned I'd set a mousetrap in our living room ... and caught a mouse in it. "Omigod, did you have to KILL it?" she wailed.) So yeah, pretty much an angel with a heart of crepe paper. But the surprisingly strong and absorbent kind. 

WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF PIGGLY, where it's all about the food, the feedings and the paraphernalia. What's that? You'd like to put your glass down on the counter? Too bad. No room.

Piggly has taken herself off the bottle and shows only a fleeting interest in the vast array of gourmet foods her mother presents her with at every meal. Which, of course, her mother merely sees as a challenge. (See Midnight Feedings: The Eyedropper Chronicles.) The countertops are bristling with feeding paraphernalia, the cupboards are bursting with organic babyfoodstuffs, and the entire house is covered with plastic so that Piggly can dive in and "experience" her foods in a full-body fashion, if that's what it takes. The last time I was there she gave herself a banana-puree facial, a Nutella waxing and a pablum-and-breast milk body wrap. You could easily drop 500 bucks at Langdon Hall and not come out looking and smelling as good as that kid did. 

However, I will say this: even on the brink of starvation, she is the sweetest, happiest, most food-encrusted baby I have ever seen, and I have the utmost faith that she and her mom and dad are going to be just fine. Although it occurs to me that there is one thing they haven't tried in this Let's Trick Piggly Into Eating a Few Crumbs game, a thing that I will be only happy to supply at our Thanksgiving dinner this weekend, and that is this: a feeding hat. Because what is life without Things on Piggly Wiggly's Head?