Can We Talk About Food (Again)?
I can’t be the only first-time mom who obsesses about food, can I? No seriously, can I? Help a sister out here.
So here’s the deal: My ten-month old monkey is a baby food snob, as in, will pretty much only eat pureed baby food that comes in a container. Here are a few minor exceptions: Cheerios, puffs, bread, cheese (if melted between bread, but not otherwise), yogurt, and veggie meatballs (go figure on that one). He’s supposed to be eating all this table food now, right? Or so the docs tell you. Well, he grimaces at the taste of real banana and spits it out, throws real peas on the floor, is disgusted by my homemade purees, and scoffs at all forms of pasta (clearly not yet the proud Italian boy I’d hoped to raise). He’d prefer to eat baby oatmeal for dinner every night if given the choice . What’s worse, most of this dismissed food is organic. Organic, I tell you! The audacity! Today he was even so bold as to hurl a few rejected puffs (apparently because they were broken) onto the floor. Total snob. Does he not understand there are starving children in the world?! Does he not understand that daddy works hard so he can eat organic and we can slum it with grilled cheese and pancakes (though not at the same time)?
What’s worse is that little monkey is cursed with a vegetarian mom who hates to cook (and therefore, doesn’t). You thought I was kidding about that grilled cheese? Pair it with some pre-made soup and you’re good to go. Voila! Dinner is served! A friend (you know who you are) suggested giving the boy avocado. Sounds like a good idea, right? Oh sure, if I knew how to pick out an avocado! Wish I’d thought of that before hitting Trader Joe’s (organic, you know). I assure you, no avocado has ever entered my home (childhood home or otherwise). I don’t even know what to do with an avocado. I’ve never eaten avocado. I wouldn’t be surprised if monkey spit the avocado right at me, but I’m willing to take the chance. But what if he doesn’t like it? I ask my friend. Make some guacamole, she replied. Um, yeah, right. I’ve tasted guacamole once in my life. Once. Just throw some onions in it or whatever you have in the fridge. She has totally never seen my fridge. Onions? Fruits? Vegetables? I’m lucky I’ve got milk in there. Just call me a bachelor. And now I’m supposed to feed a baby? Please, oh please, don’t call DSS.
Oh, and I’m somehow supposed to get him to feed himself with a spoon? Yeah, like I don’t have enough to worry about. And as if I’m not already OCD, I need to have my kid flinging gobs of oatmeal and pears (organic pureed from a jar, of course) at me. Um, yeah. No thanks. I’ll fully relinquish the spoon when I’m good and ready, and he’s saying Mom, seriously, I’m ten years old. Give me the spoon already. And he’s supposed to be off the bottle by about a year old? Why…because he’s so skilled at the sippie cup? And what’s the deal with the sippie cup anyway? Exactly how is that miraculously different from the bottle? Are these doctors and “experts” concerned that somehow I will raise a child who will never drink from a cup or learn how to feed himself? Will the other kids tease him on the playground? Will he require years of therapy because mommy fed him well into his first year? Will he sit at the high school cafeteria table completely baffled by the fork sitting in front of him?
I’m the poor sap who needs the therapy. Of that, I’m sure.