We are tyring out this new schedule - I wake up to Vivian's hungry smackings somewhere between 4 and 5am and feed her from a bottle in the fridge.
The first night, I have about 2 oz in the bottle and she sucks it down like a nice cold one on a hot day. The second night, we up it to 3 oz. Same result. The next night, Jo leaves about 6 oz in two bottles. Vivian gulps it all down like Jabba the Hutt.
Next morning, Vivian and I get a talking-to. Jo isn't happy. Perhaps makes her realize that she's become an attachment at the end of a milking machine. Vivian and I are worried. When we wake up and find Jo's flip-flops in an unexpected place, we hurry and search for Mom. She's under a pile of pillows in the guest room. I try to make a joke and tell her that I have been disconnecting the battery in her car every night so she doesn't run off to Mexico. She replies "I'll walk". Vivian and I don't think it's funny.
When I feed Vivian at night, I talk to her in Bengali. Sometimes Jo asks me what I said.
Last night I said "Baba - chup chaap kore khey now. Beshi khayo na. Nahale Mamma palie jabe". Or - "Girl, eat quietly. Don't eat too much. Or Mom is going to run away."
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