Modern Living: Bomb Shelter Chic.
Don’t know if you’ve been keeping up on the Flickr photos over there. Couldn’t blame you if you haven’t been, they’re mostly for my family, but our little dynamo is now a crawling (worming), self-feeding (if you count the fluff off the carpet), and sitting (yeah right, that’d mean he’s still) 7.5 month old.
And, he’s still perfect.
Seriously. I know I haven’t caught up on the America trip AT ALL, but what other 5 month old could you take on a road trip up and down the California coast? And then follow it with a road trip to Vegas? Not to mention a kid who slept both ways on the 14 hour plane ride?
PERFECT.
Or... at least he WAS.
Ok, he’s still perfect to us, but he’s also shittin’ us something terrible. I can handle the carpet eating. The getting into everything. The preference for crawling on dirty surfaces. The days I spend turning him around, picking the dog hair from between his fingers, and scooping paper off his tongue.
But what I CAN’T handle, is mealtime.
Breakfast is usually ok, although it’s getting worse. And lunch pushes me, but I can get through it.
But I absolutely can NOT handle dinner time. ESPECIALLY when Melyssa goes back to work (next post) and I’m stuck feeding him every night (and every meal) 6 days a week by myself.
Feeding him at home just absolutely kills me.
First it was just that he wanted to look at the TV. Fine. I turned the TV off and haven’t caught up with my soap since.
Then he wanted to look at the dog. So I put her outside.
Then he wanted to eat his bib. So I took it off, and now we feed in the nude.
God forbid, then I dropped a spot on his high chair tray. And he wanted to play with it. So I feed with the tub of wipes next to me.
But then he wanted to look at his feet. The kids playing outside. The toy on the floor. That shiny thing behind him.
I’ve poked. I’ve prodded. I’ve begged. I’ve played airplane, and train, and dinosaur. I’ve put him in front of the TV so he’ll look forward. I’ve bribed the dog to sit next to me so he’ll look at us. I’ve coaxed, cajoled and resorted to holding his head.
NOTHING. WORKS.
We are now feeding in the cleanest, most un-stimulating, boring place on earth and he can still manage to find a thousand things he’s rather be focusing on than the food in front of him.
And fine. He’s not feeding himself. He doesn’t need to pay too much attention. But he needs to open his mouth! He needs to remove his lips from his chest! And his fingers from his mouth! And that damn pout from his face!
I could be feeding him in a sterile bomb shelter and he’d rather be licking the wall.
He’s gone from eating 2 large jars of baby food, a single serve of yogurt, and a package of toddler crackers for dinner (I know, that’s a lot, and he still takes a bottle afterward!) to fighting just to get him to finish a single jar of food.
But what do we do? We make sure he’s hungry, we make sure we’re consistent and have a routine, and we try our dandiest to make sure we don’t lose our temper... but I can tell you from personal experience it’s a losing battle!
Other than Melyssa bringing home a set of restraints from work, a point we’re not far from, have any ideas?
And, he’s still perfect.
Seriously. I know I haven’t caught up on the America trip AT ALL, but what other 5 month old could you take on a road trip up and down the California coast? And then follow it with a road trip to Vegas? Not to mention a kid who slept both ways on the 14 hour plane ride?
PERFECT.
Or... at least he WAS.
Ok, he’s still perfect to us, but he’s also shittin’ us something terrible. I can handle the carpet eating. The getting into everything. The preference for crawling on dirty surfaces. The days I spend turning him around, picking the dog hair from between his fingers, and scooping paper off his tongue.
But what I CAN’T handle, is mealtime.
Breakfast is usually ok, although it’s getting worse. And lunch pushes me, but I can get through it.
But I absolutely can NOT handle dinner time. ESPECIALLY when Melyssa goes back to work (next post) and I’m stuck feeding him every night (and every meal) 6 days a week by myself.
Feeding him at home just absolutely kills me.
First it was just that he wanted to look at the TV. Fine. I turned the TV off and haven’t caught up with my soap since.
Then he wanted to look at the dog. So I put her outside.
Then he wanted to eat his bib. So I took it off, and now we feed in the nude.
God forbid, then I dropped a spot on his high chair tray. And he wanted to play with it. So I feed with the tub of wipes next to me.
But then he wanted to look at his feet. The kids playing outside. The toy on the floor. That shiny thing behind him.
I’ve poked. I’ve prodded. I’ve begged. I’ve played airplane, and train, and dinosaur. I’ve put him in front of the TV so he’ll look forward. I’ve bribed the dog to sit next to me so he’ll look at us. I’ve coaxed, cajoled and resorted to holding his head.
NOTHING. WORKS.
We are now feeding in the cleanest, most un-stimulating, boring place on earth and he can still manage to find a thousand things he’s rather be focusing on than the food in front of him.
And fine. He’s not feeding himself. He doesn’t need to pay too much attention. But he needs to open his mouth! He needs to remove his lips from his chest! And his fingers from his mouth! And that damn pout from his face!
I could be feeding him in a sterile bomb shelter and he’d rather be licking the wall.
He’s gone from eating 2 large jars of baby food, a single serve of yogurt, and a package of toddler crackers for dinner (I know, that’s a lot, and he still takes a bottle afterward!) to fighting just to get him to finish a single jar of food.
But what do we do? We make sure he’s hungry, we make sure we’re consistent and have a routine, and we try our dandiest to make sure we don’t lose our temper... but I can tell you from personal experience it’s a losing battle!
Other than Melyssa bringing home a set of restraints from work, a point we’re not far from, have any ideas?
posted by Emily. at
8:52 PM
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