Baby Food Rant

You know what grinds my gears?
The fact that I spend hours slaving over a delicious home cooked meal and my eleven month old is more interested in getting to the doggy kibble.
I mean, COME ON!

Sleep time Battles

Sleep time in this house is golden.
There is a routine that is put in place right from the first day that our boys came home from the hospital.
It goes a little something like this:
Eat, bath time, massage, get dressed, story, sleep.
This worked beautifully until Nate turned 2.
Not 18 months.
Not 23 months.
I swear I think that on the night of his second birthday the sleep rebellion had commenced.
We do all of the things that we have always done.
We don’t have the television on in the evening.
We don’t do anything stimulating other than the 5-10 stories that we read to him; we both agree that this is excessive but he loves it and we love him so why not?
We make sure that he is pretty much asleep and then we sneak out of his room.
Within SECONDS he shoots up and we hear the pitter patter of his little feet running to the stairway.

Nate: “aba.” (Other word for dad)
Adam: “Go to bed Nati.”
Nate: “Abaaa… Why aba?”
Adam: “Nati you have to go to bed so that you won’t be tired tomorrow.”
Nate: “Come up Aba!”

Then Adam goes upstairs and lays in bed with him until he falls asleep.

This worked up until very recently.

Now Nate doesn’t want Adam to leave at all so he keeps him there hostage.
He jumps around.
Smacks him.
On occasion he’s even hit him pretty hard in the nether region.
Adam inevitably loses his cool and leaves the room.
This automatically resets the process and this goes on for a good two hours.
It’s what I call toddler terrorism.
Adam has to be there until Nate falls into the deepest sleep possible and only then can he sneak out.
Don’t be fooled, in a couple of hours Nate “sleep walks” into our room and snuggles up to Adam.
There is no escaping it and we are officially out of ideas.

Lucille the lady dog

I live in a house full of boys.
We’ve got Adam the dad, Nate the big brother, Benny the baby brother and Sir Jack Nicholson the spoiled adult big baby dog.
Then there is me the mama and Lucille the sweetest lady dog in existence.
You would think that she would be my ally in this big boys club of a house.
For the most part we stand united.
Until this morning.
Let me begin by saying that it is the first night in over three weeks where I got a full and uninterrupted nights sleep.
I walk downstairs with a sort of pep in my step.
Then I reached the bottom of the stairs just to realize that there are a bunch of chewed up brushes all over the floor and dog beds.
Any good feeling that I had immediately dissipated and turned into pure rage.
My eyes began to dart through the room and I find Lucille in her pen looking so guilty.
I look at Sir Jack, who is currently very tense as he is usually the one to blame for such shenanigans.
I yell “Lucy, you have some explaining to do”, close the pen door and walk away, vacuum in hand.
This obviously wakes the baby and my day begins as it always does, in a hectic rush.

Meal Time Mission Impossible

Feeding Ben is like running a marathon for me; terrifying and exhausting.
At his ripe old age of ten months he is convinced that he is capable of eating independently.
Anytime I try to feed him with a spoon he swats at it faster than I swat at a fly that lands on my fresh apple pie.
So today I took a new approach; I took the oatmeal and poured it out onto his tray.
As I watch him slather oatmeal all over himself without getting much into his mouth, all I can feel is my OCD creeping in quietly but I talk myself down.
He seems happy to be doing what he’s doing so I guess I’m going to be doing a lot of cleaning for the next little while!
Oh, and hyperventilating, a lot of hyperventilating.

The Lunch Mission

The other day I took it upon myself to go to lunch with one of my best friends Ivy and both kids. In hindsight this was obviously a bad decision but I try to be optimistic whilst in the moment.
We hit up one of my favorite spots, Lady Marmalade.
It’s a small, quaint and very eclectic restaurant.
Furnished with mismatched chairs and tables, showcasing local artists work on the walls (for sale, of course).
They have by far the BEST eggs Benedict in town and their food in general is fresh, locally grown and delectable.
We get in and Ivy helps me get the kids out of their thick layers and settled into their seats.
I situate myself between both kids and am about to glance at the menu.
Suddenly Ben grabs the menu and throws it on the floor, Nate starts demanding apple juice and the lunch begins to come undone.

Me: Nate do you want a sandwich or rice with chicken?

Me: Can I please have the club sandwich for him (pointing at Nate) and the scrambled eggs with a side of brown bread for him (pointing at Ben).
Server: Anything for you? (with a look of horror knowing that this is about to get messy)
Me: I need a few minutes, thanks (with a look of horror knowing that it’s about to get messy)

Ivy chimes in: Apple juice please!

Nate has the biggest smile, Ben is exploring the room with a big grin and we decide on what we’ll eat.

So far so goodish.

This is where the fun begins.

Lunch arrives and Ben is loving the bread while Nate is spitting out his sandwich.

Me: Take a bite Nati!
Nate: No tomatoes!
Me: Fine! (I remove all signs of the tomato)
Me: Okay can you take a bite now?
Nate: No! It’s yucky!

On a side note, this is one of the best Club Sandwiches in town!

This battle goes on for a bit when I realize that Ben needs more food.
To my surprise he eats some egg and continues gnawing on the bread.

Nate is now fidgety and is demanding Bens food.

At this point I am livid annoyed!

I can’t even remember what it is that I’m eating and my blood pressure is through the roof.

I decide to take a pic of the food, knowing that I’ll be venting about this later, and the result is the photo heading of this post (while I try and take the pic, Ben throws his plate with the eggs on the floor. I think he’s trying to tell me something)

Much like that lunch the photo is blurry and out of focus.