Feeding The Grumposaur: The Never Ending Battle.

Tori is normally a very good baby. Make that a fantastic baby. She’s almost never without a smile. She sleeps like a champ (most of the time). And she’s already quite capable of entertaining herself. In short, she’s a much better baby than I deserve.

In fact, if she didn’t need to eat, she’d be the best baby ever.

But she does, and I do feed her (plenty, I assure you. Go away, CPS). But it’s been a battle from day one. For starters, as many of you have heard me lament, she did not want to eat from the boob. At all. I’m quite certain she would have starved, had I insisted.

Then, when we finally did switch over to bottles, she would turn into a raging demon every time we paused to burp her. To stop her screams, we’d often just plug the bottle back into her mouth (sans burp). And you know what that led to?

Spit up. Massive amounts of  projectile spit-up. Floods of it, in fact. Which, in turn, tended to lead to a still hungry Tori. So, the cycle would repeat. Ad nauseum.

Eventually, that situation resolved. We enjoyed the peace. Until…the time came to start solid food. Which, granted, was just a few short weeks ago. But guess what? She is not a fan. Nope, definitely not a fan.

I started her out on orange vegetables, as those all-knowing authors tell you you should. The first day, she spit it back out at me. That was to be expected. On days two, three and four, she did a little better. I was encouraged. Sweet potatoes, in fact, seemed to be a success.

So we moved on to squash. Then carrots. Then peaches.

Guess what? I got the same spitting routine—every time. Occasionally, she would oblige me by opening wide and accepting more than five bites, but most of the time, we topped out at four. Four bites.

Still, I didn’t get upset. It was all new, after all. The point, I assumed, was to get her used to eating, not to get actual nutrition in her.

So, I continued introducing new foods, one every few days. Turns out, she likes green beans. One day, she actually ate two whole tablespoons of those. Apples…are acceptable. Not preferred, but acceptable.  Good to know, right?

But here’s the thing. She’s only been getting one meal a day. One very small meal. And honestly? Some nights, I’m so dang tired, I just don’t want to fight with her. So we don’t bother (I’m cringing even as I write that).

Now, however, she’s almost seven months old. So I’ve been trying to step things up and feed her at least twice a day. But she? Is not having it. This morning, she was so mad, she actually grabbed the spoon from me and threw it. I kid you not (that temper? is a sure sign she’s my daughter).

I’ve tried feeding her before her bottles, after her bottles…it doesn’t matter. She, I think, would prefer to continue her all-liquid diet until she’s eighteen.

And tomorrow, I have to take her to the doctor. I can only imagine the lecture I’m going to get. Wish me luck.

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