When someone came by to see Mallorie today, I proudly held Mallorie on my lap, demonstrating the new squirt bottles we have been using for Mal's tube feedings. Matthew had just quickly blended up a nice blend containing baby food chicken, pureed beets, peaches, and milk. As the bottle warmed on the table nearby, I excitedly told her about how we've been so successful at getting solids into Mallorie without causing constipation, and how nice that is. How over-pooping is so much better than constipation. And then I started showing her how it's done.
In the sentence, "Matthew had just quickly blended up a nice new blend, ..... pureed beets, ....." the words quickly and beets might be the key words.
Because about 2/3 into the feeding, I hit a point where I couldn't squeeze the food out anymore. So I squeezed harder. And it splattered all over Mallorie, me, the table, carpet, my calendar. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was also all over Alicia. And the paperwork she had brought with her.
Red-faced, I turned to Alicia and said, "At least it was you. And not someone else."
Whatever that stupid sentence meant! So now I'm sure she left here wondering why I might have thought it was better to spray her clothes with staining beets and pureed meat than someone else.
The Trisomy 18 Connection
1 month ago