Cognosco

So. While my mom was here a few weeks ago, we had intended to take a drive to Prescott Valley to see my know-it-all wise grandma. We ended up cancelling because Albie and I were sick. But when my mom called her to arrange plans initially, she was full of all sorts of advice. She first asked if Albert was sleeping through the night. He was two weeks old at the time. She then proceeded to lecture my mother about how she hoped I was dressing him warm enough because it had been really cold in Phoenix. I answered, via my mother, who chose not to pass it on, that "of course not–I make him sleep outside with the dogs after all". (I don’t really make the dogs sleep outside either).

I actually love my grandmother and in a lot of ways think she is one hip lady. She is 78 years old and still totally has her wits about her and is in fairly good physical health. She is also a raving democrat. She just can’t stop talking. Seriously. And it’s not something that came about with age. It’s always been like that. Sometimes I wonder how she doesn’t pass out because I’m not sure when she inhales. My mom used to just set the phone down and periodically walk back and offer an "uh-huh".

My father is the same way, unless he is "evil-Barry", who is usually brought on by too much Budweiser. Then he will stonewall you in between the ranty periods.

I may have also inherited this trait, but I refuse to say. You could ask my husband. When I’m not around. He did remark that when I was in labor, it was the quietest he had ever seen me. Which is funny because he had been so sure that I would be angry, etc. and I tried to tell him that I would probably get very quiet and he didn’t believe me until it happened.

But I digress.

So then my grandmother tells my mother that when she had my dad (her second and final child) that the doctor told her that her milk was "no good". And to give my dad carnation milk mixed with water (now I understand why I have come across strong warnings not to give this to babies and I was like, "who would do that?…"). And she told my mom that he was really colicky (gee I wonder why) and cried all the time, and so they put his crib in the kitchen so they wouldn’t have to listen to it.

I almost cried. I swear to god I felt like I suddenly understood a huge chunk of why my father is so fucked up.

So I’m thinking about this baby in horrible pain, stranded in the kitchen, probably hungry too, because he should be "sleeping through the night".

And I’m thinking about all the nutrients his little brain missed out on that formula at least tries to replicate. And I wonder how much that has to do with his mood issues. 

And I was blown away that these doctors even thought that evaporated milk could even possibly come close to meeting a baby’s needs.

People wonder why I am skeptical about doctors. Well, it’s because I can’t help but think to myself that there are probably several things that doctors do today that we will look back on as stupid.

In essence, what is our current carnation milk?