are things complicated yet?

Let me just throw some baby pictures at you

Sometimes you manage to actually use your Fancy Camera properly and catch that precious face that you see every day.  And when that happens you start to feel like you might be a decent photographer one day.  You dream big.  You think about buying a light kit.

And then you catch another face, but it's not in focus, and that kind of ruins the Perfect Picture, and it becomes painfully obvious how badly you need to TAKE A CLASS ALREADY.

Here's what happens when Grammie comes to visit and takes Claire with her into the closet: ACCESSORY PARTY!  A bunny hat with cherry sunglasses in January.  She is totally ready for the resort.  Take THAT Paris Hilton.  I haven't seen YOU in a bunny hat poolside.

We own a lot of baby entertainment devices.  We have a jungle gym playmat thing, bouncy seat, tummy time mat, rocking horse, a stroller that we wheel her 'round the house in and I'm sure many other things I'm forgetting. 

During the week when nobody is here my living room looks EXACTLY like what I swore it never would: colorfully vile baby crap everywhere.  A few times a week I think about how she doesn't NEED all this stuff and why do we even own it?

Because sometimes she gets in it and is so damn enthralled she gives me a face like this and we're like, "Hey!  She's having fun!  And that means I could go to the bathroom now that she's occupied!  Huzzah for baby entertainment devices!"

I am the very definition of "lazy" today

Today I got up at 930, ate pancakes and went back to bed. I stayed there until nearly 130, getting up only to feed Claire.  I then ate a bowl of turkey chili and camped out in the living room for the rest of the day.  I watched the first three episodes of The Tudors (3 hours) and uploaded more than 100 photos to Kodak Gallery from December, organized them, attempted pithy commentary and shared them with friends and family.

(Side note: HATE HATE HATE the new Slideshow format they have.  Am currently taking recommendations on a new photo-sharing site.)

Right now I'm watching 60 Minutes while the baby naps, with an impressive array of children's toys spread about the house that I've already decided I am definitely not picking up tonight.  I am deciding whether I want to eat a frozen pizza or a Lean Cuisine for dinner. 

Oh wait, no, Chris is making turkey melts.  Score.

You know, Sunday has always been my favorite day of the week.

The Pity Party is officially over. (For now.)

Let's not talk about the struggles and complexities and HIGH HOLY DRAMA of learning how to balance being a new mom and a working mom any more.  I am SO TIRED of thinking about that topic. 

DRAMA every damn day it seems.

Instead, let's do a meme!  A meme is always fun!  Manda would like to see me list seven odd/unique/random things about myself.  And I will indulge her because we are bloggy-type friends and that is the magic of the internet at work. 

***********

SEVEN ODD/RANDOM THINGS

1. I have exactly 4 outfits I can wear to work and they involve rotating two pairs of pants.  I hate all of the outfits immensely and yet I cannot find anything worth even trying on in the stores.  Closet stalemate.  Work Wardrobe fail.  Am frumpy new mom of the highest order.  The worst part?  I sort of don't care because I hate winter clothes anyway and I always feel like they're a waste of money since it's not cold for very long here in Ft. Worth.  I'm holding out for spring clothes before I replenish my wardrobe post-child.  I can make this frumpy cardigan last ALL WINTER.

2. Nursing Bras.  They suck.  Most necessary undergarment EVER and yet?  Hardly any options to choose from.  And they all come in white.  WHITE?!  Who wears only white bras?  I have gone through a lengthy shop and return process with many online vendors and finally I did what I knew I needed to do all along: go to my favorite shop and get fitted by a real human.  Bliss followed.  Am big believer in getting fitted.  A properly fitted bra will change your life if you let it. I beg of you: LET IT.

3. My husband came home one day this week and had watched Oprah at the gym because it was only thing on.  He came home and talked about her topic for the day.  I can't remember what he said because I stopped listening after "So, I was watching Oprah today," because I was laughing hilariously on the inside.  I'm sorry you were forced to watch Oprah Chris.  But don't you see now?  She GETS to people.  Even my husband.  (Me on the other hand?  Oprah kind of annoys me.)

4. Every day when we come home I immediately strip down the baby, wash her hands, give her a bath and put her in new clothes.  I feel that after being at day care she is somewhat contaminated and if I clean her right away I'll minimize the risk of getting her sick.  Big WHATEVER on that one as only 6 days in, she is sick.  She slept  upright in her swing for three nights because she was too congested to lay down.  Pediatrician says it's a plain old winter cold.  So pathetic and sad. 

5.  I am a lot more livid than I let on about TARP and the economy and my taxes and our new president.  A LOT MORE LIVID.  Whereas lots of people were saying "Yes we can," for the past few months I was thinking, "Oh no you didn't" the entire time.  Am still thinking that.  Very interested to see how this all pans out over the next few years.  Am also assuming massive tax hit for 09.  Wheeee.

6. I keep a half gallon of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream in the freezer at all times.  It is the perfect accompaniment to a variety of things: pie, brownies, cake, fruit, Grand Marnier.  Particularly Grand Marnier.  YUM

7. I am not a morning person.  I never have been.  But lately I have come to appreciate the early morning for the privacy and time alone with Claire that it gives me.  I have often wondered how you can get more hours from the day and it's pretty simple - you just sleep less.  Most work days I get up at 445 am and this affords me hours of luxurious time to get ready and out the door.  Of course, by 8pm I'm usually beat, but so is Claire and that's fine by me.  My singular priority for the next few months is to simply eke out as much time with her as I can and sacrifice frivolities like vacuuming and laundry if necessary.  So far, it's been tough to turn off the voice in my head that screams, "THE HOUSE IS FILTHY LET'S SPEND ALL DAY CLEANING IT."  (And really, it's not that filthy - it could just use a good dust and vacuum but it still bothers me quite a bit.)  But, I'm trying. 

Oh crap, I DID end up talking about balancing working and mothering, didn't I?  See, it just invades every corner of my life.  I can't help it.  It's who I am now.

Dude, I am so lucky I made it out of the 70's

I'm working on putting a post together with our baby pictures and Claire's so we can do a sort of "Who does she look the most like" activity.  I asked my mom to scan some photos for my little project.

Honestly, it's amazing I survived 1979 and into the 80's what with my mother bathing me next to a SPACE HEATER on the counter with all kinds of hot wires and heating elements exposed. (On very tippy looking legs no less.) 

And Dad?  This hat?  I don't even have any words.  I'm just glad we got out of the 70's alive.

(Doesn't this just beg the question: What am I doing NOW that Claire will look back on and say, "OMG you were totally endangering my life!!!")

Wah. Just....WAH.

Today Claire turned over from her tummy to her back for the first time.  I don't really know much more than that since she had the audacity to do it at day care when I wasn't there to see it.

When the ladies told me what she'd done I was instantly excited for Claire...but then I was kind of sad.  I just, you know, wanted to see it when she finally managed to figure it out.  I wanted to be there and celebrate with her and remember the quizzical look that must have flashed on her face. 

"Whoa.  What did I just do?"

My feelings about working are obviously complex.  But today I really and truly regretted going to the office.  What else have I been missing that I don't even know about?

Claire, 3 months

Excuses, excuses...

I once read that having an infant is like having the perfect excuse for everything.  Everyone understands all of your shortcomings when you have an infant.

Late?  Had to feed the baby.

Messy house?  Baby.

No shower?  Baby.

Look like crap because not wearing make up, spit up is on shirt and eyes are puffy and red?  Up all night with the baby.

Still a little, uh, puffy in the waist?  I JUST HAD A BABY.

Except the thing is, in my head, I didn't JUST have a baby.  I had a baby fourteen weeks ago.  I was given the OK to run my little heart out, perform bendy yoga moves and lift weights in November.  And since then?  I have gone on exactly three brisk walks.

Three.  I am so ashamed of myself.

Truthfully, it's not for lack of want.  In the mornings I yearn to stretch my legs and take a few laps around the neighborhood while listening to Christina Aguilera.  I actually dream about that pocket of time and how good it would feel.

And yet...I can't do it.  I don't do it.

There's always something else to be done.  Granted, it is getting better.  But the truth is that before my maternity leave was over I was constantly choosing and prioritizing what to do with my time.  A lot of my day was whittled away with Claire.  I was making decisions like Shower?  Or eat lunch?  Because it was likely there would not be an opportunity for both.  It was a wonderful day, but she knows how to make things all about her.

I can take care of running the household with Claire. Groceries, cleaning, showering, laundry - I can do all of that with her by my side.  It was nice.

But what I can't do with Claire in tow is exercise.  It was very cold for the back half of my maternity leave, thus nixing walks.  I have never been one for living room aerobics; what I really enjoy is running.   I don't have a jogging stroller and I'm not sure I can find the time to use one now that I'm back at work.  (Plus, it's still winter and gets dark very early.  Am thinking about buying one this spring.) 

I could leave her with Chris for an hour in the evenings while I go to the gym and run on the treadmill.  But I don't want to sacrifice any MORE of my time with her.  Then there's the whole "She gets hungry unexpectedly" thing. (Also getting better, but still not 100% predictable.)

And yes - Chris could give her a bottle.  But that actually sucks MORE time.  I'd have to pump for 20 minutes at some point to leave him with milk so I could get out for an hour.

And that's just a whole other problem.  Breastfeeding complicates leaving her anywhere on a regular basis.  Yes, she goes to day care and takes bottles there but that's totally unavoidable.  I am fiercely protective of my ability to nurse her and I see any additional regular disruptions as a problem I just don't want to tangle with. 

I'm not interested in adding MORE time in my day to pump.

Unfortunately, I see leaving the house for an hour at the gym as a luxury of time that I can't afford.  I'd rather spend time with Claire.  I would rather get groceries so we can eat.  I'd rather vacuum and have a clean house.  I'd rather do laundry to make sure we have clean clothes.   These things always win when I put them head-to-head with working out.

I can get away without going to the gym but WE HAVE TO EAT DINNER EVERY NIGHT.

Now I'm even more time crunched that I'm back at work and it's even tougher to justify the time.  I want to come home and spend time with my family rather than "waste" an hour away from them - when I've been away from them all day.  I'm already making this huge sacrifice of time.  If I give up ANOTHER hour every day I'm left with hardly anything.  I don't have another hour to give up!  When did time become my most precious commodity?

WHY IS THIS SO DAMN DIFFICULT? 

I am aware that what I am wrestling with is a definition.  Once I "decide" that my body is just as important as these other necessities then I will reprioritize and make it happen.  Life will go on and we will manage.

But in the meantime I still have lots of clothes that don't fit and my closet isn't a happy place.  I want my old body back, but it seems that I don't want it enough to really work for it.

How pathetic is that?  For some reason, I can't make myself a priority. 

We're trying. And we're doing ok at this.

It is getting easier.

Today Claire gave one of her caregivers a HUGE smile when we got there.  M. greeted her with "Good morning Miss Claire!" and Claire smiled wide and buried her head in my shoulder - all the while looking at her sheepishly.  The only other person she does that with is my mom.

And since I know that Claire lacks the social skills to smile politely, I took that as a good sign.  She's recognizing these women as part of her "people" and she likes them.

We are getting better at getting out the door in the morning.  Claire is effervescently happy in the mornings and this makes things easier.  She watches me with curious interest as I put my makeup on and I babble to her about mascara and how there's a new IT mascara every quarter but the best one, the best one ever, is Maybelline Great Lash and it has been that way for decades and I will buy her a tube of it when she's 16 and not a moment before.

(Really, I tell her things like this.)

We choose an outfit for the day together and since Claire derives a peculiar joy from being dressed and undressed she very much enjoys this part of our day.  Sometimes I put her in several outfits until I decide we have one that both fits and look adorable.

About that.  The clothes?  I feel a high school-like need to make sure my daughter is the cutest, most adorably dressed baby in the room.  I have this theory that the cutest baby in the room will get the most attention.  And since Claire just loves to be dressed and seems to have a never-ending store of patience for "arms in/arms out/ legs in/legs out" (seriously, it's like this Very Fun Game for her), I'm taking advantage.  Sometimes we try on several outfits before we find one we like.

When we get there in the mornings I'm usually feeling a little proud of myself by this point.  No tantrums.  On schedule.  Nothing forgotten at home.  We're usually one of the first babies there, which I also feel is a good thing.  If I can get her there early and pick her up early she'll get more attention than if she's there mostly when EVERYONE is there and vying for attention at the same time.

And since I am such a super star at our mornings, I have been nursing her there before I leave.  This is good for two reasons.  It lets me get in an additional nursing session with her/mother-baby bonding/keep milk supply up/less bottles to clean.  It also lets me sit quietly in the corner and sort of observe how everyone interacts.  So far, I like what I see.

However, the truth about group child care is that it's really just controlled chaos.  The care providers obviously enjoy children but their reality is that they're trying to keep everyone fed, diapers changed and not screaming.  There's a 1:3 ratio in her room, which I hear is pretty good.  But because of that there's no way she's being snuggled with or talked to or played with nearly as much as I have been when I was at home.

This stings.

Because while I know that she's getting good care I suspect it's not great care.  The best care.  The kind of care I can give her.

(And no, I cannot hire a Nanny.  Do you KNOW what a Nanny costs?  I looked into that and I thought, "Hmm.  I should quit my job and be a Nanny."  Unfortunately, that is not an option that would work for us.)

So yes, it's getting better.  But it's tough to only see her for a few hours a day.  I can't help but be overly aware of the clock ticking away the months, weeks and days of her babyhood.  I am upset that I don't know what she's interested in this week, don't know how much she smiled this week, don't know what amused her this week.  I am sad that I am missing one of my favorite parts of the day - when she wakes up from a nap and gives me the biggest smile you've ever seen.

And just when I get teary and frustrated and am close to demanding we start to give things up so I can stay at home...I'm working from home tomorrow and my part-time schedule gives me a half day on Friday followed by the weekend.  She'll be home for 4 days.  My job really comes through for me with its flexibility and family-friendly atmosphere.

And then I think, "Maybe we can make this work.  Maybe we can have it both ways."

Maybe?

That truck full of Mommy Guilt? Yeah, back it up right over here.

Yesterday, my first day back at work, went better than I expected it to.  And by that, I mean that I did not cry.

You hear that everyone? I DID NOT CRY.  (In the morning that is.  I cried that night.  But everyone told me the tears would come in the morning so I feel that I WIN.)  Here's how our day went:

6 am - Claire wakes up, mercifully later than normal.  I feed her.  I make a latte and drink it with new appreciation for coffee.  We say goodbye to Chris who begins his 40 mile trek to work in the dark.

630 am - I get dressed.  I showered the night before which turned out to be a smart call.  I dress Claire. 

7 am - I load the eleventy-thousand bags I seem to need for our day in the car.  I put Claire in the car.  We leave the house.

701 am - Oh Noes!  Freezing rain!  There might be ice on the road!  Must drive 20 mph the entire way.  People are driving stupid.  TAKES FOREVER to drive 8 miles.

730 am - Arrive at day care facility.  (Have decided that "day care" is a dirty phrase.  Much prefer "school" even though "school" for a three-month-old is a totally ridiculous idea.  It sounds better to me though.)  Check her in, meet and greet the care providers (all very nice and loving ladies) and other moms/babies who are there.  Go through Claire's routine, unpack her things.  Explain The Bottle Situation.  Feed her.  Kiss her goodbye.  Walk out door.

9 am - Arrive at work.

11 am - I go visit Claire and find out that she drank a bottle at 10!  Happily!  Hooray!  Bottle Situation seems to have resolved self.  I feed her again since I'm there.  She promptly falls asleep until 230.

330 pm - I pick her up for the day.  (I had arranged for a short first day back.)  We go home and I proceed to crash out - completely exhausted.  We play for a bit.

6 pm - She falls asleep and stays there until 130 am even though I tried to wake her up to eat at 10 pm.

So that was our day.  On the good side, she drank a bottle and that drama is over.  (Such an anti-climactic resolution on that one, no?)  She seemed to be happy.  On the bad side, did you notice how painfully little time we spent together?  SO LITTLE.  Just thinking about it again makes me tear up.

But here's the rub:  When I was at work, sitting at my desk?  I liked it.  I enjoyed myself.  I had fun.  Being at work is interesting and stimulating.  I like my job an awful lot.  Spending time as an adult is nice!

It was only when I picked her up and we went home that I was overcome with thirty metric tons of Mommy Guilt.  It was an inescapable feeling of failure - like I was trading time with my daughter for time at work.

This is the phrase keeps repeating in my head, like one of those tickers on cable news: Nobody was ever on their deathbed and said, "You know what?  I wish I had spent more time at work."

This is what I am afraid of:  That I will make this decision to continue working and in 5 years when she's not a baby at all any more and is about to go to school on her own anyway I will think, "Wow.  I wish I had stayed home with her.  Too late for that, huh?" 

I am petrified by the idea of Regret.

It's true that she's only young once.  I feel a tremendous need to maximize time, create memories, savor minutes.  She is changing at a rapid pace and while I know that I have DECADES in front of me to enjoy her company, she is only tiny once, only smiles like this once, only learns how to do things the first time once.

I feel like I am being forced to make an impossible evaluation: to put a monetary value on what I think spending time with Claire is worth.  Make no mistake, this is all about me.  Claire is fine.  She won't remember these early years and she will be fantastic and smart and lovely whether I stay at home or if I work.

This is about me and what I want my experience as a mother to be.  Do I want to stay at home and parent our child, smother her with love and derive joy out of housework, meal-planning and taking care of my husband? 

Or do I want to be a working mom, grow as a professional, continue the substantial investment I've made in my skills and contribute to the household bottom line - perhaps ensuring a better future for us all?  We're young, the economy is in a shambles.  Shouldn't we take the money and stash it away while we can?  Rainy days? Compound interest?  That sort of thing?  Isn't that the smart play?

It feels so selfish to even consider staying at home.

The value of staying at home is not subject to the same metrics that being employed is.  There's no way to put a figure on it or say "I had $500 worth of enjoyment as a Mommy today!"  Since I can't see it in black and white or in a neat list of logical reasons that lead to a clear conclusion I feel paralyzed with indecision. 

I'm stuck.  I don't want to give up my awesome job where they happen to pay me (it's both thrilling and unbelievable to be paid for something you love doing), but I don't want to spend less time with my family and be frazzled and overcome by laundry and dishes on the weekends.  (I'm not even sure that's the fate that awaits us but I do know that it's not a lifestyle I'd enjoy.)

I have always been a big believer in the idea that when it's time to make a tough choice, the answer will be clear to you.  That is, it's not worth fretting about The Choice before you need to make it.  When the time comes the path will present itself and it will feel right and be very, very obvious.  If I was a religious person I might say that it was like God showing me the way.

But I'm here now.  I want to make The Choice.  And I can't make it.  It's not clear.  I don't know.

I feel that I can't make the right decision (whatever that is) and that both ways will lead me down a path of uncertainty that I'm not entirely comfortable with.

Maybe it's like The Matrix.  "There is no spoon." 

There is no right decision?  Both are ok?

Or perhaps, more likely, it's simply not time for me to make The Choice.  I need to give my new schedule a chance to work itself out and give my family an opportunity to see life both ways. 

I need to see both sides of the coin before picking one.  Too bad that in the meantime I'm giving myself all this grief over it.

Well, at least someone on Craigslist is going to benefit from this collection of once-used bottles

What you see above is every single drinking device that Target sells for an infant. Both bottles and sippy cups - a vast array of options for our little girl to choose from, in addition to the thousand Dr. Brown's bottles we already have.

And you know what?  SHE HATES ALL OF THESE TOO.

We methodically tried each of them out.  We tried different positions.  Different places.  Different rooms.  Different times of day.  Different techniques. 

The only one that she sort of liked was the Avent and she drank about an ounce but she wasn't happy about it.  I still don't understand why the bottles she has been drinking from are suddenly unacceptable.  What's even more curious is that she obviously knows HOW to drink from a bottle but she just doesn't WANT to.  And, in fact, she seems to take great offense to the mere PRESENCE of a bottle in her field of vision.  As soon as she sees it the tantrum starts.  As my mother told me, "It's the first of many power struggles."

It would seem that we have attempted (and failed at) every bit of advice the internet offered on this topic.  The only thing we didn't try was letting a complete stranger feed her in a brand new place and (lucky for us!) we happen to have that on the agenda for tomorrow. 

As upsetting as it is to watch the spectacularly heart breaking show she put on in the living room today, I'm not sure how I'll react to knowing it's going on in a different building - maybe for hours at a time.  I imagine it will be...bad.

What I'm kind of hoping is that she'll take a bottle willingly from someone new.  She certainly won't starve or anything while I'm at work (and I even plan to come over mid-day for a visit and nurse her).

So, we'll see what tomorrow brings.

To prepare for tomorrow I have been a whirlwind of activity today.  We put away all of the Christmas decor.  (Finally!)  I prepped my lunch for tomorrow and did some advance work on dinners this week.  We did laundry and cleaned the house.  I packed up everything Claire will possibly need.  (It's a big bag.)  I packed my laptop.

And still, the house feels disorganized.  I feel ridiculous trying to Do It All when I know that I can't and I shouldn't expect to.  We are both torn about this decision.  Me staying home means one set of changes in our life and me returning to work means another.  Both have a long list of pros and cons. 

Now that it's time for me to return to the desk that I have always enjoyed we're sort of wondering what in the hell we've gotten ourselves into.  How do other people, you know, do this and not lose their marbles?

I am not sure what tomorrow will bring. (Everyone has told me I will cry.  THANKS EVERYONE.  That makes me feel SO much better about this.  Next time I need some support remind me not to ask you.) 

If Claire decides she'd like to eat from a bottle though?  Tomorrow will go a whole lot better.

It's just a whole week of FAIL around here. Now, I fail at being a working mom. And I'm NOT EVEN BACK YET.

I spent a good portion of a morning this week cleaning all of these millions of damn bottle parts in preparation for me going back to work Monday and Claire going to day care where her caregivers will be feeding her bottles of breastmilk. 

I have a very elaborate schedule all planned out to ensure that I get to nurse her as much possible, maintain my milk supply and still, you know, work.  I'm determined to make going back to work as easy as possible through a lot of organization and preparation.

I've done hours of research about nipple confusion and when to introduce a bottle and making sure it's not too late because then the baby will never accept a bottle and all sorts of doom and gloom and situations you just don't want to get into.  The internet scared me pretty good about the whole thing.

I gave her a bottle at three weeks.  And she loved it and it was fine. 

"Pish!  The internet is soooo dramatic!"

And so we went about our lives for the next nine weeks.  She was given bottles here and there when I needed to get out on my own and life was good.  I've ever got a respectable stash of milk in the freezer.    Now that she's been drinking from these bottles for several weeks I figured we were good to go.

I had waited to open up the rest that we'd received as gifts to make certain that Claire would drink from them and I wouldn't need to exchange them and play some kind of bottle merry-go-round.

I should have waited.  I thought we were all in a happy bottle place.

At 12 weeks old Claire has decided that bottles are awful, terrible, no-good, very bad things.  Won't have anything to do with them.  Gags on any milk that ends up in her mouth originating from a bottle.  Cries hysterically in your lap when you try and give her one (even though she's clearly very hungry).  Face red like wrinkly tomato.  Hearts breaking everywhere.

Now, keep in mind that what's coming out of the bottle is the exact same thing that's coming out of me.  It's not old.  It's not spoiled.  It's the method of delivery that she can't seem to get over; it's just not a boob.

It would seem that Claire is expressing her first opinion - and she's being pretty firm about it.  It could not come at a worse time.

I'm going back to work on MONDAY.  That's just four days from now.  And my baby won't take a bottle.  Yesterday while I was shopping (which I failed at again - bought nothing) she cried for more than two hours with Chris.  She's never done that before.  Attempts today with the bottle yielded similar results.

A consult with Dr. Google tells me that this isn't all that rare - a three-month-old suddenly refusing a bottle.  She's displaying a preference for me now that she's old enough to figure out what's going on.  (I should be complimented, they say.  Funny, I just feel like a crappy mom for leaving my baby hungry somewhere without me.)

The solution?  A variety of tricks, none guaranteed to work.  Awesome.

• Keep trying, don't give up. Eventually, she'll take it.  And even if she doesn't eat while I'm at work it's not so bad.  She's slept 8 hours before so it's not like she'll starve.  (She'll just cry hysterically all day.  I'm not sure which is worse.  Both make me want to bawl.)

• Skip the bottle, go directly to sippy cup.  Apparently 3-month-old infants can drink or lap up milk just fine with some assistance.  (This sounds...messy.  And inefficient - like she'd spill a lot and it would take forever.)

• Let her reverse cycle.  That is, sleep a lot during the day while she's away from me and stay up more at night to nurse frequently.  This is interesting because I'd pump less during the day and nurse more while we're at home, thereby protecting my milk supply.  But it also means that we'll be sleeping less.  Not sleeping can really impact my quality of life.  This doesn't sound good.

• Try different bottles, nipples, places to feed her, people feeding her, positions, temperatures.  Bottle merry-go-round.  Try everything and hope that eventually something works and by the time you realize nothing works she'll be 5 months old and definitely able to do the sippy cup thing.  (This is not really a solution - merely Parent Distraction.)

All I see when I look at this is a huge pile of stress.  If Claire does not eat next week while I am at work I will be really, really upset every single minute I am at my desk.  It will make this transition so much more difficult and painful than it needs to be. 

Knowing that she's crying and angry and that I could fix it right away if I was only there, is a horrible bit of knowledge to have in the front of your mind.  I am harboring enough Mommy Guilt about going back to work already; I don't have room for more. 

But just in case we can't resolve this over the next few days, tomorrow I'm going to Target to stock up on options for her.  At least I won't have to fit in a trip there next week.

Happy New Year.