Death by Vitamin D...

This morning I nearly drowned my child with those wretched vitamin D drops without which you can't possibly hope to raise a healthy child (*eyeroll*). 

I was all set to administer a little liquid sunshine to my little sunshine when I noticed that my usual dropper decided to go hang out in the magical land that has claimed the other half of Jade's socks and most of my pre-baby sexdrive and so was mysteriously unavailable. I pulled out the one that came with my baby first aid kit which I'd been avoiding mainly because it looks more like a turkey baster than an infant dropper. The thing is scary-huge...
My other observation has been that if I let her suck it out herself she makes a mess. My genius solution was of course to put the dropper farther into her mouth and squeeze it rather than let her attack the end pyranah-style. I clearly mis-gauged the necessary velocity which resulted in a stream of sugary liquid being unexpectedly launched down her esophagus. I figuered all was well since she remained quiet. (well-meaning people who ask "how do you know she's not too cold/too hungry/too tired etc" make me laugh...one advantage of a spirited child is you never need to wonder if something is wrong when your kid screams if you dare set her swing one setting slower than her Majesty deems appropriate...)

Anyway I was about to self-high-five and declare my administration successful when I noticed her eyes were kindof bugging out. It was weird. And her little face was getting all red. It didn't take me long to put two and two together and panic. I grabbed her and frantically started patting (okay fine, "smacking") her back. My heroic efforts (sidethought: is it "heroic" if you endangered the person in the first place..?) were rewarded by projectile purple barf all over my shirt and I've never been so glad...

Actually I must say she was rather forgiving about the whole thing. She didn't even cry. She just stared at me with a sortof confused expression. I wonder if almost-choking on grape syrup is the baby equivalent of almost-drowning in a vat of 20-year old Porto; After it's over you have to admit there could be worse ways to go...

Misha 

Welcome to the Mommy Chronicles... (by me)

Sigh. A blog. I don't think there's anything more self-indulgent than writing a diary and having the expectation that people will read it but here we are. I'm justifying it on the grounds that "writing is therapy" and will get me through the tumultuous new experience of motherhood while thoughtfully logging these precious moments for my darling daughter in years to come. (*cough* and so people will read it).

As for required intros:
Enter: Moi. Slightly scattered but generally optimistic 27-year-old mom to Jade, my "Spirited"11-week old baby girl/pride and joy ( I feel I should state that from the get-go as my writing style can be somewhat cynical at times. I truly love my child. All misadventures and frustrations are recorded for entertainment and posterity-related purposes.)

 This morning in a needlessly-hysterical-baby-induced moment of frustration I decided that my two-month-old seriously lacks perspective. I genuinely feel that if she had any idea what children in the 3rd world endure she would't cry so much...about putting a onsie over her head for 3 milliseconds longer than strictly necessary. Really, Child? As Louis C.K. says, when they're this young your job is pretty much to make them not die. I've tried explaining this to her when she fights me on the most mundane but necessary tasks but am always met with a look I interpret as silent indignation until I remember that as much as I believe she will one day be a Harvard Honor student at this point I'm pretty much talking to a mini-human with all the comprehension and memory span of the goldfish I bought (and subsequently starved) in the second grade (R.I.P "Fluffy").

Welcome to the Mommy Chronicles,

Misha