Picky Eater

Is anyone else dealing with a picky eater? My son has recently become extremely picky with food and seems to only want to eat fruit, yogurt and bread. No veggies, no protein. The night before last he was served a plate of steamed veggies and rice - phewtuey - he spit it all out (he has recently mastered the art of spitting - Oh where oh where do they learn these things?!). Another plate was served to him - tofu and bananas - phewtuey - out it went...with a little bit of tofu landing on the floor and quickly eaten by the dog, aka Pachita. A (fake) chick'n nugget - yep, you guessed it - onto the floor with the rest of Pachita's new dinner. What did Sebastian end up eating for dinner this night? An oatmeal raisin cookie. Yep, that's it, a cookie - for dinner. (All I have to say is - at least it was a homemade cookie.)

And then last night, Sebastian was served a plate of brown rice and kidney beans with corn on the cob - it all ended up on the floor with the corn on the cob way over by the television. He used to love rice, beans and corn. But apparently not this week. Next, I served him pasta with spinach in a homemade tomato sauce - phewtuey - out it went. I made one last attempt and cut up a grilled cheese - of course I found it on the floor a few seconds later. At one point, I thought we were making progress after giving him a cheese stick and seeing that he was biting and chewing, until a few minutes later, when I found the chewed up cheese in his bib pocket. He was biting, chewing and spitting! ::sigh:: What did he end up eating for dinner this night? Raisins. A box of raisins. ::deep sigh::

I'm taking suggestions as to what I can do to get my 15 month old to eat more veggies and protein...although if you are going to try to convince me to give him chicken or meat - I don't want to hear it. Is anyone having or have had this problem? If so, please share.

Oh and if you were wondering what I do with all the uneaten food that is made for and then turned down by my son, it's simple - I eat it. Yep, the grilled cheese, pasta and rice and beans - in one sitting. I now know and understand why it is so hard for moms to stay in shape. Our kids' leftovers become our demise...

*Full disclaimer: Just because I mention something is homemade does not mean it was made from my home. Okay, whew, glad I got that off my chest.

"Ocean!"

"Oh shit!" Is what my little boy said. Then he said it again and again "Oh shit, oh shit." Uh oh. My son's first words - "oh shit." It wasn't the scholarly choice of words I had been waiting to hear from his mouth the past month. Wasn't even close. And I have to take full responsibility for this one. I thought I had a few months to go before it was time for me to cut the curse words from my vocabulary. Unfortunately, the day came a lot sooner than I had hoped. Coming from a family of potty-mouths, I foresee an extremely hard task ahead of me. But it is a must, since raising a sailor is not on my itinerary. So the new #1 on my to-do list has changed to: PG mama's word choices. Even though yes, I have to admit every time Sebastian yells "oh shit" which sounds a lot like "o-cean" I can't help but giggle. I know, I know - wrong thing to do. But if you heard his little squeaky voice saying "oooo-cean" every time he dropped something you would giggle too. Actually, the more and more I hear him exclaim "o-cean", the more and more I think that maybe he is saying "ocean" and not "oh shit" and maybe, just maybe I do have a little scholar on my hands. I mean after all, how many 1 year olds do you know whose first word was "ocean"? Hmmm. That's right, the more I think about it, the more I think I really do have a very smart little boy. ;)

Single Mama and Holiday Parties

With all the holiday parties going on this season, I keep finding myself a tad bit crestfallen. I mean, I LOVE parties, always have. And I especially love holiday parties. But this year, as a single mama I find that attending every party as I once did is pretty much impossible. Attending more than 1-2 this season is pretty much impossible. Here are a few reasons why:

#1 If I'm able to find a sitter in the first place, having them watch my little boy while I run to a party instead of running to the laundromat or to the grocery store; to get our regular, necessary things done; seems rather irresponsible and illogical.
#2 If I do manage to have a sitter set up and have already done all of the necessary errands, there's the fact that this single mama typically shuts down around 9:30 pm - which means by the time I get to the party and have a glass of wine I'm ready to pass out. Forget about socializing and shall I say it? - Doing the April dance. Then eventually I'm stuck having to make the trek back home in a slightly inebriated state. Which never, ever, ever goes well at 7a the following morning when my son rises for his morning bottle.
#3 If I decide to find ways around #1 and #2, there is never anything to wear because sadly the days of shopping carelessly and having tons of party outfits on-hand are over.
#4 In the event that I do find a decent outfit to wear to a party, there's the new, mom-only predicament of discovering sometime later in the evening that oops I've left the house covered in some random baby stain of snot or drool.
#5 Lastly, if I decide to shrug off the fact that I'm slightly dipped in stains of baby "stuff" I find that while attempting to socialize and finally have a few moments to be me, April, the girl who used to love chatting it up with people about everything and anything and simply have a good time, is stuck talking only baby talk. As in - I have nothing else to share or discuss unless it's baby related.

Ouch. No longer are the days where I could carelessly, and without curfew, party hop, drink as much spiked egg nog and mulled wine as my little heart desired, shake what my mama gave me til the wee hours and sleep in the next day until after lunch time. Oh no. Gone are those days. But, in my memory-filled mind, plentiful were those days and today, this year, this season is simply a new kind of party time. One that ends sober, early and without incident. So while I pout my chapped (winter touched) lips, when it's time for this mama to bid farewell at the annual holiday party, I know that soon I'll arrive home: warm, fuzzy and quite honestly, extremely content. What I have waiting for me at home is more than just a cozy bed, it's my heart; and his name is Sebastian.

A Single Mama To-Do-List

Pick up Sebastian from daycare - check
Grocery shopping  - check
Feed Sebastian dinner (while at the grocery store) - check
Unload the car full of groceries - and Sebastian - check
Take Sebastian a bath - check
Make Sebastian a bottle - check
Get Sebastian's clothes out for tomorrow - check
Wash a load of Sebastian's clothes - check
Put the groceries away - check
Make Sebastian's lunch and dinner for the next 3 days - check
Pack Sebastian's lunch and bag for tomorrow - check
Make Sebastian's bottles for tomorrow - check
Wash the dishes and bottles - check
Put away Sebastian's toys - check
Read a chapter in one of my parenting books about what to do when your child falls - check
Sweep the house - check
Mop the pee from the hallway - check
Get my clothes out for tomorrow - check
Put Sebastian's Xmas gift together - oh, it's missing a piece - I tried

(And did I mention work? Yeah, did that too.)

"Daddy!"

The boy called in excitement, as his father appeared at the door of the daycare center. I stood nearby, putting my son's coat on. My daddy-less son. And once again - my heart ached. The daddy swooped the boy up. The boy was all smiles - happy his father was there to pick him up. While my heart pounded in surround sound. I looked back at my son's teacher, pretended I was still listening to what she was saying. But my mind was elsewhere. In a daydream. A dream in which I see Michael walking through that entrance door, smiling and heading toward us. "...and you can dress him up in something nice for the picture with Santa." Sebastian's teacher was saying. Back to the present, I nodded and said. "Of course. Now are parents attending as well because I'd like to be here. I don't want to miss his big day with Santa." I smiled at my little boy. "Right, Munch? I have to be here when you see Santa...no, can't miss that." His teacher smiled at us and then we were off. Heading to our little home to get ready for our night time routine. Just he and I. Mommy and baby.

Bangs and Bruises

Is this a boy thing or a general toddler thing? This past weekend my little boy fell a handful of times and a few of those times, he fell hard. One in particular, I saw happen in slow motion, and as I ran to catch him - BANG - down he went - face first. OUCH. My tears sat beside his cries. I held him tight. Rocked him. Felt like a failure because I wasn't two seconds faster. And finally, after about five minutes of wailing - he settled down. And whoah - was up again and off to play (and fall) some more. Nerve wracking! But what to do? I can't possibly fly across the room like a speeding bullet every time he's about to have an accident right? Right? (Or, wait, is Superman giving out free lessons?!)

The Father Card

Yesterday when I picked up my 1year old from daycare, one of the teachers said [I like saying teacher better than caregiver - makes me feel like he's at a real school. ;) ]"Oh, I meant to tell you." The teacher said. "Sebastian has been running to and talking to all the fathers as they come to pick up their kids. Maybe he's sick of being around women all day." She giggled. "He seems to love being around the fathers." Ouch. A big blow to my heart. I suddenly ached for my son. At one year old, I know he doesn't get the whole father thing just yet, and is probably interested in the "fathers" lately just because they are different. Different than me that is, different than the mamas that he is used to seeing. But it was a little reminder, nonetheless, that soon, as my son grows and learns, he will feel an ache, a pain and a void. As his mother, I felt pained for him. I wish I could guard him and protect him from all the hurt and pain he may one day feel. I realize that it's impossible to keep them (our little ones) from everything. I can't raise him in a bubble (no matter how much I may want to). And sometimes that makes me sad. I realize being a single mama can make you feel like a super mama at times, but I guess you can never really be superwoman herself. So, I just smiled at his teacher (who doesn't know anything about our home life and the fact that it is just Sebastian and I), said "Oh, how funny." And hugged my little boy. He might not have his father here, but he has me: Super Mama at her finest.

A Phony

I decided last night that I am a fraud. Yep, that's right, me = a fraud. After I heated up a can of red pepper and lentil soup for my son's dinner last night, and later packed the leftovers for his lunch the next day, I realized how official and homemade the soup looked. And then it occurred to me that his teachers at school must think his mom (that's me!) sends him good, nutritious, homemade lunches every day. That's when it hit me - I am a phony, a fake. I really have to get it together, I decided, after my sudden revelation. Maybe I could squeeze in some impromptu cooking time after my son was in bed. Yes, that could work - right after the laundry and right before bottle washing. Or wait, wasn't that the only twenty minutes of "me" time I had allotted myself for the day? Hmmm. Maybe I'd have to keep up the facade of Chef Mama for a few more days. Yeah, that sounded like the best plan. I'd have to rework our schedule to arrange for more cooking time later in the week...

Love

Last night, I watched my son sleep. His perfect little face. So exquisitely perfect. I hugged him. I smelled him. I couldn't stop watching him. Magic. He's magical this little boy. So freakin' precious. I can't believe it at times. So freakin' wonderful. I couldn't imagine this sort of love before I felt it. I couldn't know what this would feel like. Looking at him makes me want to burst into pieces, at times to explode. He's so amazing. And he's mine. My little boy. I feel like the luckiest mom in the world...