My son is in danger of starving. He's going to waste away to nothing but a set of big blue-to-hazel eyes and wild light blond hair. Yesterday, at childcare, he only drank two ounces of milk. Today, he cut that to an ounce and a half. He spent the days showing off, crawling around the room by putting down his right hand, then left, then pushing off his left foot. Hand, hand, foot, repeat, until he'd criss-crossed the soft mat and the not so soft carpet. I think he's trying to dig a groove in the shape of a 747 around the exersaucers and bouncy seats. He has no time for nourishment - he's got important tricks to practice, a substitute teacher to seduce with his big grin and drool, and a roomfull of babies to impress. Soon he'll lose a few of the slow-to-come pounds he's put on. If it keeps up, he won't just crawl out of his pants, as he often does now; they'll fall off him the minute I pull them up.
Perhaps I'm overreacting. I am his mother. Food and health-related overreactions are six line downs in the job description. He's a wee boy. It's true that he chowed down on oatmeal, peas, and yams at dinner. It's true that he nursed well morning and evening both days. It's true that he took a few mouthfuls of solids while at daycare - but far less than the jars he'd been gobbling while on vacation. It's true that he just came back from a week and a half trip, and so he hasn't been at childcare. It's true that he's still been on the cheerful side, even though the stranger anxiety seems to be popping up and he sobbed both mornings when I left him. It's true that he's somehow got enough energy to investigate heating vents all over every room.
It's also true that he's never loved the bottle. His father and other caregivers have had to spend an hour to get him to take 4 ounces. There was a time when he drank about fifteen ounces during eight hours away from me, but only on a few occasions months ago. More often, he had five to twelve (on a good day), and, lately, he's been dropping that range to a max of ten. While he's had a few ounces of formula here and there, most of it has still been breastmilk. He's refused a few formula-only bottles, and, since he'd been consuming less, I've been able to (barely) keep up with his consumption, so he hasn't gone off mama's milk as much as I thought he would. Honestly, he's always been finicky about nursing, too - and the past milk avoidance fuels my concern. He seems to have a love/hate/sometimes indifferent relationship with liquids. He's not a drinker. He's too grown up for milk.
That said, an ounce and a half of milk and a few baby-sized mouthfuls of food doesn't seem to be enough to sustain a crawling machine. I'm left wondering what's going on, and in a watch-and-wait and try not to be too neurotic situation. Is the low intake a temporary dip connected with a new skill? Is it because, while on vacation, he nursed 98% of the time, and had been almost bottle-free for a little under two weeks? Is it a little-known side effect of the baby jetlag (which hasn't otherwise affected him)? Is this big fluctuation totally normal? Is he giving up the milk because he's now on solids? And if that's it, why isn't he eating solids like he did on vacation? Did the salty sea air bump up his appetite? Do mashed in Colorado bananas taste worse than mashed in Hawaii bananas? Do I just have a more tantalizing spoon technique than the ladies at his childcare center? Does he need a Vegas-style bottle with an umbrella to make him a drinker? After two days, it's not panicking me enough that I'm calling the doctor. I'll be able to sleep tonight (assuming the child lets me). Still, I'd love some advice.
