Ok, so it really does not take much to make me cry. Am hopelessly weepy and sentimental and I may be crying RIGHT NOW just from trying to think of an example of something lame and ridiculous that recently made me cry. Like that Free Hugs video. Or those Kleenex commercials with the couch. Or the heartbreaking beauty of my pizza bagel.
All of that setup to say NO FAIR WITH THESE COMMENTS. All the honesty and bonding and gorgeous tributes to your boys and your girls and Christ, my eyes got all blinky and shit while reading them. (ALL of them, plus the emails, every one, yes.) So...thank you.
In a similar vein, thank you to everybody who recommended the Ellyn Satter book after the OMFG MY KID WON'T EAT GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH IF I DON'T MURDER HIM FIRST post. (Uh. This one.) I finally went out and bought it last Friday (and bumped into reader Krista* while there, in a overwhelming confluence of Internetness) and spent the entire weekend reading it while slapping myself in the forehead.
A couple of the big mistakes I made:
1) Caring, obviously.
2) Doing the short-order cook thing, where I'd whisk away a rejected food and make him something else, and then something else after that.
3) Trying to force a spoon into his mouth because I figured if he'd just TASTE it, he'd LIKE it.
4) Entirely too much juice and milk between meals.
5) Completely unrealistic portion sizes.
6) Did I mention the caring? How very desperately I cared? Which resulted in hovering and hand-wringing and the renting of garments and probably some liver damage?
Wow, that's way more than a couple mistakes. I am a freaking moron.
Last night Noah ate chicken. And fresh fruit. And lentils. He gobbled up matzo brei (also known as the Hangover Special in our house) without even hesitating. Today he ate a meatball and applesauce and part of my pizza bagel. The Squish Test is no more. We smile at each other during meal times now.
I honestly cannot believe how quickly Ellyn's advice turned things around. He refused to eat a bite of about two or three meals, but I refused to care. I fought the temptation to make up for those meals with cups of milk or juice. And then...boom! He started eating. Tasting foods he's refused to even try for months now. Eating everything on his plate and then asking for more.
I'm just...dude. THANK YOU, INTERNETS.
Don't get me wrong -- he's still kind of weird. He eats his applesauce off the tip of his index finger because he refuses to use his spoon. I have to check his nose after every meal because of his penchant for shoving food up there. (THANK YOU to wilddreemer for the plugging-a-nostril-blowing-into-mouth trick: that saved us from at least two trips to the emergency room and/or having to explain why my son has a lentil plant growing out of his nose.)
Yesterday we gave him a little Easter basket -- I filled it with some cute Easter-related toys he has owned and ignored since being in utero and a few of those plastic eggs full of snacks. Cheerios, puffed rice and what I figured would be the big hit of the day, a couple Hershey Kisses. He tentatively licked the chocolate, smiled politely and then handed them back to me. The puffed rice was his favorite.
That's just weird. Luckily, I have no problem eating pre-licked Kisses.
Because that's not weird at all.
* And one final THANK YOU to Krista, for leaving out the truly SCANDALOUS detail from our meeting in your comment, which was that my hair was most decidedly un-pink. I feel the need to confess it anyway. I don't know whether the dye is losing its potency or my hair is getting resistant, but I'm having a slut bitch of a time keeping the color in. And after noticing that the full-head applications were turning my hair into crunchy straw I backed down to just a couple pink streaks. Weird suspicious looks from the neighbors are one thing, but crunchy straw hair is quite another. (Also: I am sorry, fuck cancer and all, but there was no way I was going spend the next five years looking at hot pink hair in my driver's license photo.) If I don't apply the color about every other day it washes out almost completely. It's a messy and time-consuming process, and with a fragillion blogs to update and the gentle soul of a child to nurture...yeah. Every other day doesn't always happen.
Anyway, we're a mere $990 away from our goal of $7,000 and my release from pink-zebra-stripe-hair-hell. I'm almost out of aluminum foil and my cuticles look like I've been marinating them in beet juice. (Yes, gloves would be smart. Remembering to buy gloves AT THE STORE instead of the minute I get home would be EVEN SMARTER.)
I apologize for all of my many hair-related deceptions. Here's a photo of me right now, freshly re-highlighted.
As always, I am incapable of getting my entire forehead in the frame. Brilliant.