Tantrums & Tragedy: 24 Hours of Terror at the Hand of a Missing Boob Bottle

Mr. C will be one year old in less than 3 weeks. Once he is one, we will be replacing formula with homo milk. He will also be starting to go to daycare so I have been working really hard to get him to start drinking from a sippy cup. He is a very particular little guy. We had a terrible time trying to get him to drink from a bottle. The only bottle that he would take (after a ridiculous amount of time and perseverance was the Mimijumi Very Hungry baby bottle.  My sister bought it for him after hearing breastfeeding moms rave about it when she worked at a baby boutique years ago.  This bottle is the most like a boob in its appearance, texture and form.  Babies are able to drink from it exactly the same as they do while breastfeeding, rather than having to suck with other bottles.  I would recommend it to anyone trying to supplement while breastfeeding or transition baby from breast to bottle.  This bottle saved my life.  It was and is still the only bottle Mr. C will drink from.  He is extremely strong-willed and stubborn and would go on a hunger strike before he would drink from any other bottle or cup.  He wanted boob only which was nerve-racking when I was scheduled for surgery to get my gallbladder removed and figured he would starve to death while I was unable to feed him.  The Mimijumi Very Hungry bottle was the perfect solution.  Mr. C loved it…well, not as much as he loved boob, but it was an acceptable second runner-up.  Now that he has transitioned from breast milk to formula, it is still his favourite bottle.

Mr. C always has a bottle as I rock him and sing to him before putting him to bed each night.  In the past couple weeks, he has gotten into the habit of taking the bottle into his crib with him.  He hasn’t been feeling all that great and I think sucking on it soothes him.  He has never been one for soothers.  He refused a soother 1000x worse than he refused the 8 million bottles I tried to feed him before finding his favourite; which we now fondly refer to as his boob bottle.  If you haven’t seen one, this is what it looks like:


Last night was like every other night in the past couple of weeks.   Mr. C clutched his bottle tightly and took it to bed with him.  I kissed him goodnight and pulled his door shut.  When I heard him babbling away in his room this morning, I let Miss M run across the hall and push his door open.  She excitedly shouted his name like she does every morning as she ran to his crib.  The door flung open to reveal his smiling face as he stood proudly bouncing up and down as he held onto his crib rails, saying an enthusiastic “Hi!.”  I got him up, changed his diaper and then Miss M’s and brought them down for breakfast.  Once they were in their seats with some toast buttered with peanut butter and a banana, I ran upstairs to retrieve his boob bottle from his bed.  It wasn’t there.  Strange.  I picked up his blankets and shook them out.  I checked to see if he had pushed it in between the mattress and the crib rails.  I looked under his crib and around it in case he had thrown it.  It was nowhere to be found.

Not wanting to leave the babes unattended with food on their trays, I came back downstairs and filled a sippy cup with milk for Miss M and another sippy cup with formula for Mr. C.  Because we don’t have another option, he is going to have to start drinking from a sippy cup.  Today is the day.  When I put  the cup on his tray, he happily picked it up and took a sip.  When he realized it was formula inside, he spit it out, glared at me and threw the cup on the floor.  I picked it up and tried to encourage him to drink from it.  I clapped and cheered when he tried again.  Once again, as soon as he took a sip and tasted the formula, he spit it out and threw the cup down.  He is so particular.  He knows how to drink from a cup.  He will happily drink water and smoothies from a cup.  However, for a little guy with a 7 word vocabulary, he is very clear in expressing his dislike for formula in anything except his boob bottle.

While the babes munched on their breakfast, I blended up a green smoothie.  Mr. C smiled as the Baby Bullet loudly mixed the ingredients together.  This is a victory.  We have been working on this one.  He is absolutely petrified of loud sounds made by the Baby Bullet, blender, food processor, electric hand mixer, vacuum cleaner, power tools, etc.  He  is so afraid that he shaked in fear when I use the Baby Bullet to make smoothies each morning.  Over the past week, I have put fun music on before I’m ready to blend and then as it mixes, I sing and cheer and dance like a crazy person with an over-exaggerated smile to prove to him that the sound is okay and I am okay.  Miss M usually joins in and laughs and claps.  Now, after a week of doing this crazy blending ritual, he seems to understand that it’s okay.  He didn’t cry.  He just smiled and looked at me like he knew that sound meant “smoothie” and my kids love smoothies.  I divided the smoothie between the 3 of us and Mr. C happily downed the entire smoothie from the sippy cup without any issue.

Later in the morning, he grew restless wanting a bottle.  I had turned the house upside down looking anywhere and everywhere the bottle might be without any luck.  I had dressed him on our bed that morning so looked under it, under all of the pillows and duvet.  I figured that Miss M may have picked it up so checked her room and under her crib.  The only thing I found was an old sippy cup half-filled with milk that now resembled cottage cheese.  Gross.  I tried to get Mr. C to drink formula from a sippy cup again, figuring that if he wanted it enough, he would give in and drink it from a cup.  I tried different types of cups again.  He refused all of them.  It is absolutely mind-blowing how stubborn this little guy can be when it comes to his bottle.  He got so upset with me only offering cups that he threw himself on the ground, crying hysterically, hitting his head on the floor in rage.  Tiny man, huge temper.  It was a full-blown temper tantrum.  Wow.  I picked him up off the floor and tried to comfort him but he was so mad, he couldn’t settle down.  I put him in the high chair and distracted him with some lunch while I searched the same places over and over again trying to find his bottle.  I had hoped that since the bottle had disappeared that he would be up for quitting “cold turkey.”  This did not appear to be the case and I couldn’t find it anywhere to settle him down.

Meltdown:  Boob bottle or bust!

Meltdown: Boob bottle or bust!

After lunch, I tucked him into bed with a sippy cup of formula.  He cried and cried, throwing the cup against the side of his crib in protest.  I apologized and told him I couldn’t find his bottle.  I searched high and low while hoping he would settle down and drink from the cup.  He had eaten a good lunch and drank water from a cup so he wasn’t hungry or thirsty.  He just wanted his bottle.  After 15 minutes or so, I decided he wasn’t going to give in and made some formula in a Playtex bottle that he normally rejects.  If it would settle him down and let him get some sleep, it was worth it.  The poor little guy was so upset.  When I opened his bedroom door to offer it to him, he was just starting to catch his breath and was drinking from the sippy cup!  He did give in!  Success!  However, as soon as he turned and saw me with a bottle in hand, he climbed up on his feet and starting crying as he reached out for the bottle.  Had I waited another 30 seconds, he would have settled himself down and drank from his cup.  Oh well.  You win some, you lose some.  He examined the bottle and while it wasn’t his favourite, he decided it was better than nothing and sucked away on it and fell asleep.

When my husband came home, I told him about the tantrums and the missing bottle and how I was about to lose my mind over the boob bottle mystery.  He confidently told me that he would find it and wandered off, chuckling under his breath.  He is lucky I showed self control and didn’t strangle him over his arrogance and belittling of today’s tragedy.  I realize that is sounds ridiculous to be completely stressed out over a frickin’ boob bottle but had he seen the tantrums and heard the screaming, he would understand the severity of the crisis at hand.  When he came back empty-handed, his confidence had faded.  We tucked Mr. C into bed that night with his “second best” bottle.  He again, looked at it disappointedly but took it, figuring again, that it was better than nothing.

We had one last search for the boob bottle then turned in for the night.  When I woke up in the morning, my husband was standing over me, with a huge smile on his face and the boob bottle in his hand!  I jumped up, feeling a knot in the side of my back, exclaiming “Wow!  Where was it?”  He said “It was the strangest thing.  You fell asleep and I turned to put my arm around you and the boob bottle rolled out from under you.  I think it was tucked into the duvet the whole time.”

Two days later, my back still hurts from sleeping on the damn thing but Mr. C is happily reunited with his boob bottle.


andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this post, please subscribe to my blog or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! xo


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