I’m not really one for remembering/celebrating the small dates but I did realize it was Halloween one year ago that two single cells fused to become what would grow into Squirt.
WW was too sensible to allow me to buy or make a super cute baby Halloween costume. Plus, here in Thailand there are minimal opportunities for celebrating this holiday, and none which occur before his 6pm bedtime so cute costumed photo ops will have to wait for the next holiday.
Plus we were tired from our first date night the night before. Our lovely GBF offered to babysit and let us get out of the house for a bit. We had a nice dinner, a few beers and saw what yucky sex-pat nightlife our little suburban neck of the woods had to offer. Then WW had a nasty allergic skin reaction to something and my body decided it didn’t enjoy ham hock after all so we had a bit of a sleepless night. Ho hum. But it was a good jumble of nice and weird to step back to our free-of-responsibility days for a few hours.
I had my 13453rd bad mother moment last night and introduced formula for the first time for Squirt’s before bedtime feed. Just a recap, Squirt has never fed from the breast. Not once. So I have been a slave to the breast pump since his second day and plan to quit just after Christmas, when he is five and some months old. In the meantime we’re going to slowly introduce formula so it’s not a horrible shock to his system when the freezer eventually runs empty. I also read that formula fed babies sleep longer through the night. And low and behold, Squirt slept from 6pm until 4am without eating. Then went back to sleep until 7.30am. So why do I still feel tired?
I thought he might be a little put out at suddenly being given
poison formula, but he didn’t bat an eye. I’m not in the habit of chugging either breast milk or formula but I have licked both off my arm (don’t judge me). Afterwards I wasn’t exactly clamoring for a big, overfilled jug of luke warm breast milk but it does taste a damn sight nicer than formula, despite the fact we bought the fanciest one.
There’s another thing. I never really looked but WW reckons in the formula aisle of UK supermarkets there are really only two big brand options. Here there are more than you can count, each fancier and more expensive than the next. It was overwhelming. The doctor was no use. When asked what she’d recommend she shrugged and stated ‘they all have different things’. Awesome, yes, I realize that. But which one is best?
The companies have really got you, too. Do you want the simple box with no extra health benefits which will cost you an arm and a leg or do you want to fully nourish your pride and joy with a formula containing every vitamin from a-z and more besides, which comes in a shiny gold box and will cost you more than private school tuition? So, of course we got the gold one. We were advised to try a small box first, in case Squirt gets the squirts. It cost over 6 GBP and when we got home we worked out it would feed him for two and a half days if we fed him that exclusively. Jeez. There’s an advertisement for breast milk, if ever I heard one. But I can’t bear the thought of being abused by these breast pumps for the next 9 months. I think the freezer is well stocked enough that he won’t be exclusively on formula for very long before he starts eating some solids and needs less anyway. Hopefully.
normally this is where I’d put something funny but even the meme generators are judgy about formula
I’m also ready to stop riding the emotional rollercoaster that I have my fingers crossed is related to breast feeding. WW has the same amount of sleep as me and the same amount of stress but she doesn’t find herself on the edge of ugly, sobbing hysterics every few days. She also doesn’t feel the need to check Squirt is still breathing frequently during the night. She doesn’t think about all the horrible things that can happen to small babies, toddlers, little kids, big kids and adults. She didn’t feel a strong urge to rip Squirt’s enormous vaccination needle out of the doctor’s hand and jam it in the doctor’s thigh to see how she liked it. She doesn’t start conversations with things like ‘What if I don’t like his girlfriend’ (yes, the future girlfriend of my 3 month year old). In short, WW isn’t teetering on the cusp of full blown insanity. Fingers crossed this is all a consequence of boob juice, not a permanent condition.
One more week until I’m back to work. A month ago if you’d asked me if I was ready I would have either lied or said yes, with a side helping of guilt. But back then Squirt was being a real booger and going through a screaming heebie jeebie phase. Of course now, in the run up to my return he’s gotten himself into a routine and is being all cute and adorable most of the time. Boo to working and wrangling other people’s kids when I’d rather be at home wiping up the saliva of my own. But someone’s got to bring home the formula, I guess.