Machaela Jane: Performer Extraordinaire

I didn't see it coming.

It was late, and MJ had just enjoyed her favorite part of her evening routine: her bath. There is nothing better than a baby fresh from the bath. They are so warm and cozy, feel so soft, and smell so delicious. MJ loves bath time, and will sit happily in the lukewarm water until her fingers wrinkle like little raisins, listening as her daddy and I lavish words of adoration over her along with splashes of water over her protruding tummy. She loves it so much that she absolutely hates being pulled out of the tub, and will scream bloody murder until we get her toweled dry, dressed, swaddled, and snuggled close with a bottle of ricey milk in her mouth.

Last night, MJ had been bathed, lotioned, and swaddled, and was beginning to enjoy her final meal of the night. I guess I should have been paying better attention, but I was in a deep discussion with Mike, who was folding her clean laundry as he sat on the floor at my feet. I wasn't monitoring how quickly she was eating. MJ is typically the slowest eater on the planet. She will take 45 minutes to an hour to suck down one 5oz bottle. So, imagine my surprise when, after only approximately 10 minutes, I was suddenly coated with milky vomit. Her bottle was almost completely drained. Oops.

It happened so fast.

I didn't have time to close my mouth.

I think I had one of those out-of-body experiences, because I think I actually watched myself bend over and spit another person's vomit out of my own mouth, onto the carpet in front of me. After that disgusting display, I looked at MJ to see how she'd fared. A thick layer covered her entire face, neck, blanket, and on further inspection, had soaked through her sleeper to her onesie underneath. It was dripping down her arms and had run under her head and chunked in clumps in her hair. We were both covered. The best part? MJ started grinning like a maniac. I think she even giggled. I guess I would feel better too after all that, so I started laughing right along with her. Mike just stared at us like we had six heads. I think he thought I was losing my mind.

I passed her off to Mike and went to take a shower. I don't even want to say in what places I found rice chunks that night. Catastrophe.

These are not the kind of performances I enjoy.

Guess what else she has learned to do? She fakes sleep. I don't know what she thinks she is accomplishing by this, but I'm not kidding; the child pretends to be asleep. She will be eating, and suddenly simply stop sucking. Her whole body will relax, and she will ignore my attempts to return a nipple to her mouth, parting her lips wide as her jaw opens and her head falls back. I will continue to try to poke that nipple back into her mouth, and she will continue to "sleep." Cheering my own good fortune, I will attempt to stand up from my chair so that she can be placed into her cradle or crib, and suddenly, her little eyes will pop open and she will look at me as if to say, "excuse me, but we're not quite finished yet." Then she'll proceed to either continue eating or cry until I allow her to snuggle back against my chest. The little actress! What am I going to do with her?

Unrelated: just something I have recently learned about our little Machaela. She loves having her hair brushed. She is such a girl! Every night, right before and right after her bath, I brush her hair to stimulate her hair follicles and exfoliate her remaining post-birth peeling skin. She can be at full scream, and I just take out that brush and she will melt in my arms (although, her reverie at that moment doesn't usually last more than a few minutes). As long as she is fed and has a fresh diaper, she will let me brush her hair forever, eyes closed (or rolled back in her head, which I still think is totally creepy) and a sweet smile over her lips. Ahhh.