Momnesia

Everyone Please Go Away

My husband was picking up dinners in 75-80 degree weather. Some old lady walked up to coo at Emerson and said, “Ohh. Did your daddy bring you outside without a hat?” Yes, but usually we just leave her head at home.

My mother-in-law came over to visit, and yelled at Scott every time he tried to touch his own daughter. “Wash your hands!” she shrieked. She called later to ask how things were, and he mentioned that they had picked me up at work. “Oh, no!” she cried. “You put Emerson in the car?!” No. We strapped her to the top.

Finally, we were at a birthday dinner and Allisonwas holding Emerson, who was being passed around and fed by about 10 different people - all the while Dot saying that she was eating too much. She usually drinks between two and four ounces - it depends on how she feels - and she was up to three. “If you want to feed her, see if she wants the rest of the bottle. She won’t drink it if she doesn’t want it.” Anyway, Allie didn’t burp her, and I wasn’t watching because I was talking. When she handed her back to Dot, Emerson spit up on her. “I knew you were feeding her too much!” Dot said, in a weirdly triumphant way. She went on while I apologized and offered to have her shirt dry-cleaned. She told me I was being ridiculous. But it was really annoying to have her go on about this like we were shoving the food down our daughter’s throat. I mean, the pediatrician said that she wasn’t eating enough.