We have entered a new phase in our lives as parents: the phase where Cheerios are all over the fucking house, crushed under every step we take, swept up from under every appliance and piece of furniture, at home even in rooms where we have never fed her. What the hell am I doing giving Cheerios to such a young thang, you wonder? It's simple: I give up. She will eat nothing from a spoon, nothing that requires assistance of any kind and pretty much nothing in general. NOTHING. And I am sick of trying to force rice cereal through her clenched lips and gums, only to have her spit it right back out at me before wildly flinging her hands and getting the soupy, breastmilky crap all in my hair.
And it's not like she actually EATS the Cheerios. She tries, but she can't quite pick them up and get them into her mouth regularly. For every one she manages to gum, about 20 end up on the floor. She does like to fling them and laugh at how clever she is as they patter to the floor. Ditto for the teething biscuits, which at least occupy her for a few minutes before she moves on. Ditto for clementines as well, and I'm not even sure she's supposed to be eating citrus yet. My careful, deliberate, well-planned approach to introducing her to foods (I even have a book, dammit! with recipes!) is all shot to hell. The Cheerios aren't the only caving. I bought her a jar of pickles yesterday in response to her new rejection of bananas in favor of a crunchy dill on my plate at a restaurant. I haven't given her one yet because I can't get my mind around it, but I'm thinking I'll only make it to lunch before we truck those out as well. Oh, goodbye sweet oatmeal ceral, the purees I so carefully made and froze for later, even bananas, once a favorite food of hers. Sure, she'll gum at one for a while, but eventually she casts it to the side and smiles as it splats on my once-gorgeous hard wood floors.
And speaking of the floors, what the hell was I thinking with all the damn wood in this house? The falling-off-the-bed incident was just the first of many smack-your-head-hard events. I'm starting to worry about brain damage and want to carpet my whole house in down comforters. I can't tell if it's worse for her little skull or my fragile soul. The wind-up cries, when she's quietly building steam before wailing as loud and hard as she possible can, kill me softly every single time.
1 comment:
The food situation doesn't get any better with age. My daughter still manages to get food everywhere. She's 2 1/2 and insists on taking Cheerios with her in the car. No matter how much I work with her on keeping the cereal in the plastic baggie, it winds up all over my car. Thankfully, all I have to do is take my dog to the store with me, and by the time I'm done retrieving necessary items, he's taken care of my toddler's mess.
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