He Likes It! Hey, Mikey!

I'm thinking about starting a new blog. I'm going to call it My Kid Won't Eat.

Remember this kid from A Christmas Story?

 Remember how he wouldn't eat and his mother had to let him use his plate like a trough just to get some food into his body?
I'm pretty sure that's going to be Baby D in 4 years.

Fruit? Yes, as long as it's been cut correctly and it's not pineapple or blueberries. Yogurt? Any time, any flavor. Bread? Sometimes, but he's not a sourdough fan and it can't have butter or anything on it. Pancakes? Waffles? Grits? Hashbrowns? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
And, what do you feed the kid who hates everything? Life cereal, of course! He only likes it with a little splash of whole milk, though. If it's dry, he won't eat it, nor will he eat it after it get soggy from the splash of whole (not skim) milk. It's also the ONLY cereal he will eat.

Unfortunately, that's it.

The little stinker will not eat meat in any form (although he will nibble on a Boca "chicken" patty), nor will he eat any pasta or cheese. We have the only toddler in America who spurns Cheerios, Goldfish crackers, and juice. I'm not a meat eater, so maybe he inherited that from me, but that pasta and cheese thing - what the heck?? If he didn't look so much like me, I'd wonder if they had sent us home with the wrong baby.
Veggies have to be served in one of those little pouches that turns them into a carrot/squash/apple smoothie. (shudder)

Oh, and please don't ask me if I've tried to get him to eat other things. I'm not an idiot. Of course, I've tried. Daily. Any offering of anything other than the aforementioned foods is met with a vigorous head shake and a defiant, "Nuh!" That's "no," for those of you who don't speak toddler.

He won't even taste anything. Good lordy, I'm a picky eater, but at least I taste stuff before I determine whether I'm going to say, "Nuh!" to it in the future.

The doc assures me that he's fine, it's just a phase, and it could be a lot worse. He could refuse anything but chicken nuggets and French fries.

I blame those darned Gerber commercials! I was convinced that if I only gave my kids healthy foods when they started eating solids, offered a variety of fruit, veg, and lean protein, and held off on any sweets until that first bite of their own birthday cake, they would eat like that for the rest of their lives. That's what I get for being so gullible and susceptible to advertising, huh? Now, I just have two picky eaters.

I hope I don't sound too hypocritical. I am a picky eater and I hate it when people try to make me eat things I don't like. Don't even get me started on potato salad, again. I'm 36 years old. If I can't make a simple choice like whether or not to eat something that makes me gag, without the help of someone who thinks they know better than I do, then just lock me up somewhere because apparently I'm not capable of taking care of myself.

I'd really like to get Baby D to try some different foods, though. Maybe he's not a meat eater, either, and it's ok with me if he doesn't like pasta. Everyone has their own tastes. But, I know he would like certain foods if he would just try them instead of shaking his head.
Any suggestions? I'm running out of ideas for packing his lunches on MMO days!
Please don't tell me to let him starve, though. I can't justify letting a 16-month-old go hungry just because he doesn't care for spaghetti. Besides, if his body isn't nourished, his brain won't be, either.

Are there foods that won your picky eater over?

Bah Humbug.

You're probably not surprised to hear that I'm not a celebrater of Valentine's Day.

I don't know why. I have no excuse. Maybe I got tired of delivering singing Valentines with my chorus class when I was fifteen. Or, it could be that I was never the recipient of said singing Valentines and I became resentful. Most likely, it's because this whole Valentine's Day thing is sweet and cutesy and sentimental. I don't do sweet, cutesy, or sentimental.

Usually, I dress in black in protest of the red and pink perkiness that everyone else seems to feel they have to drape over themselves today. But, hey, I did do something Valentine's Day-related today! I listened to "Heart-Shaped Box" on my way home from dropping off the kids at CASA! That counts, right?

It's another item on my list of stuff that, while I totally understand why other people enjoy it, it's just not my thing. Other things on that list include sports, country "music," and potato salad. I have another list, albeit a very short list, of things people enjoy of which I will never, ever be able to understand the appeal, like camping and the Jackass movies. (Seriously, what is wrong with those people??)

I think the kids are making me soft, though. This year I made pink pretzels for Sweet Pea's class party, made cute Valentines for each child's school friends, and am currently baking a cake which I will decorate with those stupid conversation hearts. What's happening to me????

Oh, I also got DWH a lovely Justin Bieber card. I'm not going to give it to him until after dinner, though, so don't tell him. I want it to be a surprise. ;)

I would like to acknowledge the good people of a local grocery chain, who like to make a mockery of Valentine's Day by doing this:

Is it me, or does that look like something from a horror movie?

Happy Valenties Day to those of you who love it, and for those who don't - well, you only have a few more hours and then you don't have to think about it for a whole year.

Faith Like a Child

I actually wrote this for a newsletter for my MOPs group, but it's relevant for this blog, as well, so here you go:

“I assure you that if you don’t turn your lives around and become like this little child, you will definitely not enter the kingdom of heaven.  Those who humble themselves like this little child will be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18: 3-4

My friend, Katie, tells a wonderful story about how her faith in the power of prayer was solidified when she was six years old. You see, Katie wanted a pet turtle. She had begged her parents to get her a turtle for weeks. You don’t know Katie like I do, but I can tell you that when she wants something badly enough, she can be pretty persistent. Tired of all the begging and whining, her dad told her that she should ask God for a turtle in Sunday school that morning, and if God wanted her to have a turtle, he would give her one. So, that’s exactly what she did. That same afternoon, as her father pulled the car into their neighborhood after church, he had to brake suddenly to avoid hitting a turtle that was crossing the street. He stopped, looked at Katie, stepped out of the car, picked up the turtle, and placed it gently into Katie’s waiting hands. To her six-year-old understanding, God had given her what she had asked him for that morning. There were no strings attached, no elaborate prayers, and no questions as to whether or not she deserved to have her prayer answered. She asked; he answered.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could always retain that child-like faith, even after we have grown up and made everything more complicated than it has to be? Have you ever paid attention to what your kids bring home from Sunday school or preschool? I don’t mean the handprint Christmas trees or the fingerprint hearts. I’m talking about the messages written on them. They’re so simple, and they have to be for our children to understand them, but what if we just listened to what our children told us about God, and let that guide our faith?

I’d like to share some sage wisdom that my precious three-year-old has provided in our “car talks” after church.

·         “God loves me!” Yes! God loves us the same way we love our children. I mean, he’s our dad. But, we doubt sometimes. We doubt that we deserve his love or his mercy because we’ve said or done something that we might think makes us unlovable. Think about it, though. Is there anything your children could ever do to make you stop loving them or refuse to forgive them? God is your parent. You can’t mess up enough for him to turn his back on you. He loves you too much.

·         “God made me special!” That still goes for us grown-ups, too. We start early, comparing ourselves to other people. It’s part of our culture and it gets us all at some point. As moms, we often compare ourselves to other moms and that can be dangerous. “So-and-so must be a really great mom since her kids are so well-dressed/quiet/good eaters/well-behaved/smart/athletic/you name it.” “Oh, she’s so much more patient/firm/affectionate/put-together/whatever than I am.” We really don’t need to fall into that trap. God made you the mom you are because he knew exactly what kind of mom your child would need. You are special because you are who God wants you to be, not who he wants her to be.

·         “If we talk to God, he listens.” Sometimes it feels like our prayers are bouncing off the ceiling like a rubber ball. They’re not. He is listening. I promise. Just because we don’t get our way when we want it, does not mean he didn’t hear us. Trust him.

 The final words that I would like to share from the mouth of my Sweet Pea are, “You’re my favorite mommy in the whole wide world!”

Have faith, friends. God made you and your kids for each other. Even on the worst days, you are still your children’s favorite mommy in the whole wide world.

Yes, It's True! There's Something Else On!

Brace yourselves.

What I am about to say is going to shock and amaze those of you who are sports fans. What I say after that is going to amuse those of you who are not.

A new episode of Downton Abbey is airing at 8 p.m. tonight - during the Super Bowl!

OK, now that the sports fans have gotten their smelling salts and recovered from the case of the vapors they suffered upon receiving the knowledge that the world does not revolve around football and that there are millions of people who could not care less about the Super Bowl, I'll let you in on a little secret.

I'm not a sports fan, and will be watching Downton Abbey.

Gasp!

If you, like me, are not a sports fan, this little tidbit of information is not surprising to you at all. Someone (my dear and loving husband) told me that they usually don't run new episodes of popular TV shows during the Super Bowl. I was a little afraid I was going to break his heart when I told him that something else was going to be on. You see, he was raised in a family of avid sports fanatics.

I wasn't.

No one in my house ever watched the Super Bowl. Ever. I didn't even know what time of year it took place until I was in my mid-twenties and people took a break from my birthday party to go and watch the infernal thing. That's no exaggeration. You have probably encountered very few people who know less about sports than I do.
And, somehow, every year, we still managed to watch our favorite shows in spite of the biggest American sports night of the year.

It's not that I think there's anything wrong with sports. Everyone has their own interests and that's great! It's not like I walk around making snarky remarks about dumb jocks as much as I used to. (Hey, when you're a girly-girl nerd who is snubbed and ridiculed by said jocks, sarcasm is your only defense.) I get the appeal. I can appreciate the adrenaline rush of cheering for your favorite team and the thrill when they win.
I just don't get the actual game. I'm as bored by sports as a non-reader would be by War and Peace. I've tried. Really, I have. I've gone to a few football games and baseball games, and even one (ugh) basketball game. It's almost always on the tv when DWH is home, and I wanted to be able to participate in the occasional conversation with his family (which always, ALWAYS turns to sports in one way or another).
Alas, fifteen minutes into a four hour game, my eyes are glazed over and my brain is trying to put all seven dwarves in alphabetical order, just to have something to do.

There are some perks to watching the game, though. You know how, when there's a tornado, the media searches for the looniest woman in the most colorful muumuu with the most curlers in her hair, so everyone can hear her say, "LAWD! It sounded just like a freight train was a-comin' through m'yard! An' all I could thank about was, Betty Sue's still got my dadburn casserole dish!" (Shout out to Sara V)
I'm pretty sure that's the goal of the post-game interviews. They look a little like this:
Interviewer: "How did you accomplish this victory?"
Football player: "Well, you know, you know, you know, you know. We just, ah...uh...uh...uh...you know. You know. You know, you know, you know, you know. We uh...uh...just uh...basically just ah...we just, you know. You know, you know. You know, you know, you know. Basically, we just, uh, you know."
For a non-sports fan, that's great comic relief!

It's been an interesting adjustment, assimilating into this family of sports people. You see, and I think I might have said this before, my family are just not the sportsy types. OK, yes, there was the occasional Alabama football game on in our house during what I now know is called "football season." That's the fall. I didn't make that connection until I went to college. Seriously. But, that was pretty much the extent of it. In hubby's family, sports is what's on TV, on the radio in the car, and usually the topic of conversation. Thank goodness for my sister-in-law who can translate for me!

So, sports fans, are you stunned? Did you know there were countless people who don't give a flying fig about the Super Bowl and will be watching something with a plot this evening?
DWH thinks he's going to convince me to watch Downton Abbey on amazon later so he can watch the game tonight. Hmph. We'll see.

I love you, sports fans. Now, feel free to make fun of my nose being stuck in a book, my dorky big words, my taste in music, and my odd sense of humor. It's ok. I know you love me, too, even if I don't watch the Super Bowl.