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Monday Diary

 One recurring struggle in this house has involved the Dr. Brown bottle. People in America sometimes snap and murder their children--and there are all sorts of reasons--but certainly the Dr. Brown bottle ranks among the contributors.


I hate, hate, hate the idiots who designed this bottle--who felt that the only way to feed an infant was via a five-part contraption--a contraption requiring its own special cleaning apparatus. I hate that the nipples continuously rip, so that there is a constant mystery: Is my child rejecting milk because he is ill? Because he is teething? Because the nipple I bought literally yesterday no longer works? I imagine that the people at Dr. Brown are men, and they have found personal Betty Drapers to raise their own children. So they themselves are shielded from the consequences of their idiocy.

(Another group of men is the group that controls carseats in 2022. Just typing the word "carseat" makes me shudder with rage and roll my eyes in boredom. Can one be enraged and bored at the same time? If one must work with a carseat.....)

My older child has some issues with motor planning, so surrendering the Dr. Brown bottle was not really an option. But I credit PK with a major change. I believe that the quiet peer pressure of PK has led Joshua to strap on his big-boy pants. Suddenly, the bottle is no longer needed.

The writer Elizabeth Strout says that major changes can happen quietly; you don't realize the change has occurred, and then you notice you're a new person. For example, on one certain day, you will pick up and cradle your child for the last time. After that day, he will be too big; subtly, he will shy away from the koala-bear cuddle. He won't present you with a fresh contract; he won't make an announcement, with a megaphone. But--still--he will push you onto new terrain. This is how I feel about the Dr. Brown bottle.

I'm proud of my son; I'm looking forward to other moments of change.
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