Life Family and the Pursuit of Sanity

or… adventures in infertility and babies and family drama!

The Stupid, It Hurts February 20, 2014

Filed under: Big C,Family — arminta @ 7:38 am

This happened yesterday, on Facebook. Because, that’s where I live, now.


Big C: This movie is sooo scary and could happen for real! –Feeling: Scared, Watching: Vacancy

  • Me: WHAT?!?!?!?! Who is letting you watch that?!!? Turn it off!
  • Him: Aunt Wiccan is letting me watch it. It’s fine…
  • Me: Grrr…
  • His older brother: Turn it off! That’s totally inappropriate for you, and you JUST said you were scared.
  • Aunt Wiccan: Relax… he was born desensitized. LOL He hasn’t even jumped.


Being an older movie, I’m gonna guess no one’s gonna get pissed at “spoilers” being posted… the plot is a couple of creepy dudes lure people to a hotel, then brutally and suspensefully murder them and record it and sell it as murder porn. Of course, our hero and heroine are the ones who finally thwart their evil plans, which means, they get a double dose of horror.


Big C is 10.


I was 27 when I saw this movie, it still haunts me. Because, as he pointed out, it could happen. It’s not a fantasy based movie like dolls coming to life, or super natural dream killers. It is crazy balls realistic.


Also, Big C needs someone to go pee with him at night. So, kiss my ass he’s desensitized. Also, wouldn’t a desensitized 10 year old be a bad thing? Where were the younger kids? How much of this shit did they see?


Yeah, this is ignorance my sister thinks is “great” for her kids. I swear to piss I’d like to smack them all. The worst part is, although I took care of this child from the time he was born until he was 7.5, I have no say. I have no voice. They are ruining my baby, but he’s not mine. I want my baby back.


Learning is Fun March 3, 2013

Filed under: Baby G,Big C,Expanding Their Minds,Family,Ladybug,We're parents? — arminta @ 1:48 am

Oh Pinterest! I love you, but I hate you, too. Your recipes are mostly conglomerations of canned/boxed/processed ingredients dumped together to make “the best thing ever.” Your fashion advise is questionable at best. Your memes used to be second to none, but they are lacking of late. Your ideas for creative shit to do with my kids, though? AWESOME! Left to my own devices I’d never have come up with all of these activities. The kids love them, and the Dollar Tree is raking in the dough now that I have talked G into giving me an “educational supplies” budget. Which is mostly spent on baking soda, vinegar and crap from the dollar store.


Our first forray into Pinterest inspired mayhem was “Snow Paint.” Don’t let the name deceive you, this is not paint. It is shaving cream and white glue (equal parts). It does dry puffy.

Snow Paint

The idea was to paint paper snowflakes with the snow paint, then tape them to our picture window. We ended up with four snowflakes taped to the window.

Somewhere along the way, I decided “Hey, let’s give two two-year old’s glitter!” because Am.Dumb.

The reality of snow paint and glitter with toddlers.


Next, we decided to do a baking soda and vinegar experiment. But, I didn’t get all fancy with it. Just bowls of each element for each kid. Obviously, any time they can make a mess and create a fizz, it’s a good time.


The boy even made it a real experiment by making it “rain” into his “science.”


She is skeptical as to whether or not this counts as “experimenting.”


Let’s see, also, we made Mardi Gras crowns (while listening to zydeco music, which Lil Miss loved).

The cuteness is too much!

Please ignore the janky dishwasher, being held together by packing tape. It does a fine job washing the dishes, but the metal piece that covers the front part got dented and now falls out anytime the door is opened. So, I took it off.

I promise everyone is wearing underwear, their t shirts are just too long to see them. Also, we don’t wear pants.


One day when it was just me and Lil G I actually did a full on “invitation” and everything for the baking soda and vinegar game.

He had more fun mixing the colors with the syringes. How sad is it that I had 5 extra medicine syringes, and only one kid…



You know how sensory bins are a huge thing now? Yeah, I didn’t either, but Pinterest informed me otherwise… I went shopping for my first sensory bin on Valentines Day, thinking I’d get cheap Valentine’s stuff. No. The Dollar Tree had that shit cleared out and the green was in full effect. So, we have a St. Patty’s tub. Because they are two and have no idea.

My mom’s friend said “So, a sensory tub is just a box full of random stuff?” Yes, sometimes it is…


Lil Miss played with it for an hour. She doesn’t do anything other than sleep for more than five minutes at a time.


The boy, on the other hand, lost interest after about 20 minutes.

The most recent activity was another bin. But, this time it smelled good and had dinosaurs buried in it. Lil G still lost interest after about 40 minutes. Ladybug would have played in it all day if we didn’t stop to Skype with Nana.


Even Big C liked this one. I wish Pinterest had been around when he was little.

A real smile on a nine year old boy?!


As you can see, this is not an activity for those who like clean…

So, that’s what we do during the day… I have tons more ideas to try based on stuff I found on actually creative mommy’s blogs! I even “lesson planned” next week. This whole “having fun with the kids” thing is getting out of hand 🙂


Insanity Defined January 11, 2013

Filed under: Baby G,Big C,Family,Ladybug,Little C,We're parents? — arminta @ 2:39 am

Once upon a time I had these grand plans to be a fun Mom/Nanny. We were going to go out all of the time! The park, museum and places unknown were going to be our everyday experiences. Every now and again I start thinking that way again. Then I take all four of these little hooligans somewhere and by the time we get home I swear that I.will.NEVER do that again. It’s always the same thing, I don’t know why I think it will be any different…


At first one of two things happen: Big C REALLY wants to do whatever we’re doing, and thus is all excited and hyper acting or Big C really does NOT want to go wherever we’re going, in which case he wines/moans, drags his feet and picks fights. This is on top of two two year olds who think getting dressed to go bye-bye is some kind of endurance exercise for me (let’s run and laugh and take off all of the clothes she just put on us! yay!). Also, during this time Lil C (who is 5 and perfectly capable of getting himself ready to walk out of the door) is doing nothing to get ready, and is probably getting out a toy/game that will need to be put away before we leave.


Once we get outside, the toddlers immediately run into the yard rather than wait to be put in their car seats. I catch one and wrestle them into their seat while the other rolls in dirt. The big boys are fighting. I catch the other baby and wrestle them into their seat. The big boys are a) still fighting and b) not in their seats. I yell at the big boys to get in the car. They continue fighting.


As we drive to our destination, I play music to distract everyone. The boys fight over it. Ladybug drops a toy or takes off her shoes then screams at me for the entire trip to get it for her. Lil G wants everything Lil C has. Lil C wants everything both babies have. There is a fucking toy store in my seat and yet three children cannot be kept entertained for 15 minutes. Big C plays his iPod with the volume up so loud he’s in danger of violating noise ordinances.


When we arrive at wherever the hell we were going, I have an inner debate about just going back home, but decide to buck it up and stay the course. You know, follow through and boot straps and all that. We assign buddies (i.e. one big kid + one little kid) for the parking lot. The boys fight over who gets to be the chosen baby of the day’s buddy. I end up carrying one and holding the other’s hand while the big boys run ahead and forget all about us. They usually go into the building/onto the playground and just generally get ahead of themselves and me. Often I’m left to negotiate a door with both littles by myself.


Once inside/established at our destination things go smoothly for approximately 4.6 seconds. Then littles start trying to run off, bigs fight some more and people start giving me the hairy eye (not 100% true, I do often get compliments on how well-behaved they are in public, but a so frustrated by their private behavior at this point that everything irritates me). Everyone wants to do something different and Big C alternates between being up his sister’s ass and telling me “it’s not my fault if she falls and breaks her neck.” To which I reply “if she falls because you were up her butt it will be” and he gets all pissy. Lil C will take this time to vanish. He is a master at wandering off.


We find Lil C, and I start the “we’re going home soon” routine. Because “soon” means “at some in the next hour when I’ve had ENOUGH” and who knows when that will be. At this point I am exhausted and red-faced and aggravated and just want to go home and have a glass of wine and SIT DOWN. Because I am fat and have RA, but also because four children suck the life out of you at like octo speed.


When I have finally had enough of the fighting, running off, fighting and hairy eyeballs, I do make them leave. Getting back to the car is done at a snail’s pace. Once again bigs have forgotten the whole “buddy” concept and left me to wrangle toddlers who do NOT want to get back into the car. They do want to look at rocks and run. away. The big boys are fighting, again. I’ve finally reached my wit’s end with the fighting and tell them to be silent until we get home. So they start arguing with me and asking me for the specific conditions of the silence (i.e. if a car is coming and going to hit one of the babies can I make noise?). The irony is lost on them. I get the littles strapped into their seats while saying “Silent means don’t ask me all of these questions (OOH, I thought I just couldn’t talk to my brother…). Get in your seat and put on your seat belt.”


Finally everyone gets strapped in and we drive home. This drive is much like the drive to our destination, except one or both toddlers falls asleep. Which I prefer.


When we get home the big boys rush to the door, stand in my way while I try to unlock the door, then take off their coats/shoes and leave them in the floor (right next to the bin where they belong) in front of the door. I make two trips to carry in sleeping babies. If it can be swung, I stay in bed with Lil G after carrying him in. Usually I have to get back up and break up the fight that has erupted in the hallway right in front of the bedroom doors.


At this point I am exhausted and frustrated and grumpy, nothing has gotten done at the house and the children are no happier than they were before we left. So I swear to never, ever, do that again. Until I forget the misery and decide to do it again…


Festering Black Hole of Negativity September 26, 2012

Ya’ll, I’m sorry that you only get to hear the bitching and whining (mostly) and that I’ve been a piss poor commenter lately. Where have I heard that before? Oh, right, my every single post for the last year! Good fucking grief.


I don’t know what I was thinking taking on nanny’ing and a small business and being home full time. I must have been out of my damned mind. I mean, for real. I feel pulled in every which direction, am frazzled and bitchy by 5pm every day (am I maybe tired from staying up all night? you, voice, can feel free to shut the fuck up!) and never feel like anything gets done. I make a list, I blow it off. Am.Lazy.


But, I’m not. I don’t feel like I get a break, ever. So, I guess, all of my dicking around and blowing off my list is my way of getting a break? But it doesn’t work. Sometimes I think life would be so much easier if I just got a job. But, I’d miss my little man too much. Plus, the whole point of staying home was to raise him up right and that job isn’t nearly done.


So, you want a little bullety synopsis of what’s up?

  • Nanny life: My sister, the ever game player, has been telling her kids that they’re going to daycare. She has not told me this. She did recently ask me to reduce my rate because the boys were in school now. I had to remind her that 1) I didn’t raise the rate this summer or last when I had Big C all day, so why would losing Lil C for a couple of hours a day warrant a rate change? and 2) I now have to drive to get the boys everyday which costs gas money and is an added expense due to their going back to school, also 3) the new school schedule completely fucked the babies nap schedule so I now get 0 time without at least one baby. To which she immediately began going on about how broke she is and how my husband makes more than she does. What the fuck does that have to do with anything? I wish that I was in the position to be able to watch the kids for free, but I’m not. That money is our grocery/household money. It feeds and diapers HER kids. So frustrating.
  • Also, Big C recently told me that his mother told him that I tried to “take him away from her” and that’s why they have to keep secrets from me. Oh my fucking god! There’s a big ass can of worms. For the record… I did see an attorney to determine how to best handle custody and substance abuse issues. A long time ago. When it was clearly an issue. I told her then that I didn’t want her kids, I wanted HER to want her kids. I told him “Your mom was not well back then and I took measures to be sure you’d be with family and not separated from your brother, no matter what. I’m very disappointed that she would bring that up to you.” If it gets brought up again, there’s no guarantee I won’t tell him the whole fucking truth.
  • As if that wasn’t enough, his ADHD/ODD is out of control. Probably partially due to the fact that his “dad” is talking about getting married. Partially due to the fact that his mom is playing crazy mind games. And, a lot to do with new school year/new school stresses. I have said umpteen trillion times that I’d take him to some kind of sport/class to help with discipline and with getting him into someone else’s hair. My mom has offered to pay for such activity. He has not been enrolled. He also has yet to see a behavioral therapist because “a girl a work has similar issues with her kid and a therapist didn’t help them.” So, why bother doing what’s best for your kid, right? I mean kid”S” because his bullshit stresses the other kids, too.
  • You know what else? My MIL is a bitch. Not new news, I know. This psycho actually called my husband and offered him $1k out of nowhere today. Because money is the key to making up for being a family wrecking bitch? Oh, wait, no, that’s a sincere apology, and actually feeling remorse for being such an evil, nasty, mean spirited, ignorant, crazy bitch. #NeverGonnaHappen.
  • But, here’s something that did happen… for some unknown reason my husband felt the need to tell this insane person that he wasn’t “allowed” to talk to her anymore because the therapist and I said so. Un-motherfucking-believable. Grow a pair of goddamned balls. No mention of his decisions. No mention of the umpteen million times I’ve said “you are a grown up and can make your own decisions, but, my son will not have a relationship with her unless she agrees to family counseling.” Which, personally, I think is pretty damned reasonable. No, he just throws me under the bus, again.
  • The counseling is a bit mixed. She’s spending a lot of time on teaching biblical marriage principles. Which, OK, fine. I mean the top thing she keeps talking about is “protection” and he threw me to fucking wolves just this week, so I’m starting to think this is a waste of money and time. Use the “talking stick” and you’ll never fight again… follow the bible and your marriage will be awesome. Whatever… Seriously, here’s how the issues stack up. His w/ me: I sometimes let the baby play with things he probably shouldn’t, I don’t keep the house as clean as we’d both like and I don’t like giving blow jobs all of the time. Mine w/ him: He doesn’t stand up for our family in a mature way with people who are attacking us, he treats me like the help, he hovers over me second guessing my every decision related to the baby, he spends WAY too much money and I’m left to pick up the pieces and the list goes on. There has been “some” improvement since counseling started, but none in the most major of issues.
  • My kid won’t pull down his pants and piss in the potty. Even for chocolate. Oh, he’ll go if he’s nude, but cover up that bird and he pisses every where.
  • I’m broke. Not BROKE, but “broke.”
  • My RA is crazy. Which is probably the catalyst for the depression and bitching. I actually found something that helps. But… it makes me sleepy for days. And, G bitches whenever I take it. Also, I don’t like the way it makes me feel (well, I like the longer term feeling, but the immediate feeling is to intense for me). So, I is screwed.
  • The icing: G asks me the other day “are we going to have another baby or what?” No, I’m not kidding.

It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s a Bad Blogger! July 4, 2012

Oh hey look, it’s that crap blogger who only seems to write when she wants to bitch or brag!


Well, that wasn’t very nice… True, maybe, but still!


OK, so I’m sorry for being such a bad friend. I am still having a hard time with my bloggity mojo (duh!). But, also, I do feel so much better about things when I’m writing on the regular. Ya’ll are like my pensieve. I guess that would make me a very unimportant Albus Dumbledore with Appalachian roots. (This is where those of you with family in the hollar say “I don’t reckon!” and then we laugh at the people who don’t hail from Kentucky because they don’t have any clue what we’re talking about!)


Gee whiz, where was I? Oh, yeah, non-bitchy updates 🙂 I think bullets are in order!

  • Right this very minute my G’s are at the mall with Aunt C. Which I’m cool with. My feelings are still very hurt over the way things went down. G says she was crying today and saying she misses me. It’s very confusing. I miss her. I miss that side of the family. We were friends. Good friends. But, I don’t know if this is a fixable rip or not. I’ve told G that she will have to make the first move. I simply cannot.
  • That wasn’t bitching.
  • Everyone is finally better! After our adeno exploits (literally, we were not all the way over the adeno, yet) poor Mr. G came down with Hand, Foot and Mouth (I am very mature, as you well know, and had much fun calling it the cock-suckie virus when talking to G and no children were around) THEN! before that was gone he got Chicken Pox, too! And, G and H INSISTED we keep the kids separated this time, too and guess what? Both babies got both illnesses. What a waste. I would have rather kept them together. But, Ladybug got the pox pretty badly for having been vaccinated. G only got 3 pox total (he’s also vaccinated). But, now, they are both better! And have been for like a week! Yay!
  • “You should totally write about vaccines and your opinions thereof” said No One, ever. But, I think I might anyway;)
  • Another post no one cares about, but I feel the need to write? I’m giving up… on trying to cure myself with food. Meaning? I’m back on the Weight Watchers band wagon. If you are also on WW, let’s totally hang out and eat imaginary chocolate while discussing Points Plus values.
  • Weight loss has become health priority one. Because? It’s one I actually have some amount of control over. I had leetle revelation about myself, health and weight recently. Still lacking the “something” to do much with it… but, am working on it.
  • My mom was a bit less than 10 years older than I am now when Big C was born. I am an old mama. I am gonna be a really old grandma (hopefully). This body has to last. I have to take better care of it.
  • I cut my own hair, and… it’s one of my all time favorite haircuts. For realz. It was like 3am and I couldn’t sleep, so I Youtube’d some “cut your own hair” video’s. Thinking? I’ll mess it up and HAVE to get it fixed, thus forcing me to get out and get my unruly ass locks under control. But? LOVE my self cut.
  • Seriously considering dying my hair cotton candy pink. Because? I can.
  • Lil G is almost 2!!! This Sesame Street party is going to be epic! I’ve decided to just invite people and if no one shows again (no kids, other than the C’s, showed for his 1st party) then we’ll still have fun. I’m letting go of the nonsense. I really I could invite ya’ll. I think the drive is just too long for Jack and Ginny and Gremlin, though 😦
  • If you disagree, or have always wanted to visit Ohio in August, by all means let me know. Because I’m serious about wishing there was a feasible way to let our bloggity babes get to know our bloggity friends’ bloggity babes.
  • I think I’m gonna take a nap.



You Weren’t Looking for a Cohesive Thought Were You? January 30, 2012

Filed under: Baby G,Big C,Family,We're parents? — arminta @ 4:34 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Hello, so I have like 50 little things flitting about in my brain that I want to share. Guess what that means? Bullets!

  • Aunt C: NOT CANCER!!!!!! Emphysema, but NOT CANCER!!!!! We are so relieved and happy that the news isn’t as bad as it could have been. That said, as soon as we found out she wasn’t dying G went back to not wanting to reach out to her. He is still very hurt by her actions. I am less so. Don’t get me wrong, I was good and pissed at first, but honestly… she’s had 50 years of getting steamrolled by her sister and this was just one more example. So, yes, I think she should be the one to apologize and I think she should reach out to him. But… I think who ever has to do the reaching out, they should talk it out. Baby G and Uncle P should not suffer because of Grandma Psychopants. Also, I think having the incentive of Baby G being allowed to come over more will help them quit smoking. (Obviously, can’t let the asthmatic baby go over there, especially when it’s winter and all shut up, regardless of the relationship stuff, because of the smoke.)
  • La Diabla: This crazy bitch is a whole other story. I think part of the reason G isn’t wanting to reconnect with Aunt C is because he’s afraid of it opening the door for more contact with his mother. Since the fight earlier this month they hadn’t had any contact. Until… the heifer followed his truck one day last week while he was meeting one of his guys out on their route. She then got out and IN FRONT OF HIS WORKER acted like a loon (being all giggly and happy and trying to hug on him) and asked him to go get lunch with her. Like, what? He wasn’t at work? So, he politely (remember, his guy is right there watching this whole scene) told her that he was at work, and very busy and he’d talk to her later. So, she stood there next to her truck and watched him and his guy work and openly cried. He was so pissed. Fine, you want to talk? Let’s start with calling off work hours and having a conversation and not being nuts. I don’t know what he told his driver. Anyway, she hasn’t tried to call since, but I’ve gotten a couple of hang up calls (her signature move) and she’s driving by the house several times a day again. You know what she needs? A job. In California. I was going to say Alaska, but I have fantasies of moving to Alaska.
  • Asthma: Can kiss my ass. Poor Baby G had a runny nose last Tuesday, and is now in full blown Yellow Zone again. No wheezing so far, but I started the med’s when the night coughing started. Poor baby. At 17 months, one of his words should not have to be “puffy.” At least we know it’s helping, because when he’s having a coughing fit, he looks relieved to see it. IDK if the runny nose triggered him, or if we got exposed to something new/more at Children’s…
  • Thankfulness: I am currently making some micro-preemie hats for a friend of a friend’s baby. She was born at 26 weeks and only 1 & 1/2 pounds. I hate pre-eclampsia. But, her story reminds me of how much worse our outcome could have been. Even though Baby G had to come early, he had 12 more weeks than this baby. He was full size, more than 4 times bigger than this little girl. Carried precisely to term. We were lucky. Of course, the other side to that is knowing what an impact our losses have had on Big C. When he heard about this baby, being born and alive and breathing on her own and being a kick ass little miracle for how tiny she is, he wasn’t happy. His response? “I don’t want to hear too much about that baby, because I don’t think she can stay alive too long.” An eight year old should not have to know that babies can die. Of course, I told him all about Bobby & Maya and Ainsley. I told him all about the miracles of modern medicine. I tried so hard to make him believe that I wasn’t thinking the very same thing. I’m pretty sure I failed, though, because I heard him telling his Nana later that he didn’t think that baby could breathe with such tiny lungs. But… she is breathing with those tiny lungs. Nearly a week now. And I’m making her hats. Because I can’t do anything else and I need to do something.
  • Speaking of making hats… Baby Hooked Boutique is doing really well! Today is the last day of V-Day design and listing before I move onto St. Patrick’s Day. Also, getting a new website up for it! Will get you the link when it’s ready for visitors.
  • Baby G: Other than the asthma, he is doing so great. He is scary smart. He counts to three, you heard all the animal sounds he makes, he knows all of his body parts, he’s naming colors (green & blue he gets every time, the rest he’s getting about 75% of the time) and he is starting to recognize letters. Two and three word phrases are a daily thing. He asks questions. Well, he asks “Where’d he go?” He understands the answers. Scary smart. He still eats crayons, don’t get me wrong. He’s a toddler. He makes messes and puts stuff in his mouth and tests limits and will cut a bitch over his Elmo toys (or just scream and push her down). But terrifyingly smart.
  • Banana-Gate: Banana’s are losing some of their power, but here’s a fun poop story! I talked to the pediatrician about the bananas. He said 1/2 a banana a day. 1/2!!!! Yeah, that wasn’t happening. So, I started offering 1 banana with breakfast, and limiting him to 1/2 a banana at lunch and dinner. Wanna know what happened? He got constipated. The nurse informed me the lack of bananas couldn’t possibly be why he got backed up, because bananas are constipating. Three days, no poo and a suppository later I decided he can have as many bananas as he wants. After a couple days getting re-regulated, and having plenty of bananas, no more poo trouble. So… bananas are back on the menu! (He’s eating about 3-4 a day, now. But, he eats plenty of other foods, too, he isn’t only eating bananas.)

Well, I think there was more, but certain people decided to take a short nap (f’ing asthma cough!), so I gotsta dip.


Going Bananas for Bananas January 1, 2012

There are two things that I will openly own being a judgmental bitch about when it comes to parenting. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll judge in private all day long about lots of things, but about two things only will I really be a vocal bitch: healthy 4 & 5 year old’s who still wear diapers and super picky eaters.


I get that diapers are a big deal for some kids, especially with pooping. Big C would pee on the potty all day long from 18’ish months, but asked for a diaper and had to go hide and be in a certain position for MONTHS before he finally got to the point where he was all the way out of diapers. But, that was when he was 2. Not 4. When we start getting past three and a half and potty is still an issue, it’s time to talk to the doctor, to make sure everybody’s healthy, then get on the ball. Because you can’t wear diapers to kindergarten. (If you are dealing with a 4-5 year old in diapers, I’m sorry. I get that it’s probably a huge PIA for you and you wish the kid would shit on the pot, too.)


The picky eater one, I have always been much less understanding on. Hard to imagine, yes? Here’s my take, you offer kids TONS of variety. Give them lots of healthy options, eventually they will get hungry enough to eat. Little C rocked my world on this hypothesis, a little, but eventually even he came around. See his first nanny would let him eat ANYTHING just to get him to eat. So guess what he was eating? Well, what would you eat if you could eat ANYTHING? Duh, Cool Ranch Doritos and Fruity Pebbles all day! Or, even better, let’s not eat, let’s just drink milk. Gallons and gallons of milk. I did not realize he had been surviving on nothing but trans fat and high fructose corn syrup, so of course when he started coming to my house and was offered things like cheese, strawberries, cantaloupe, apples, broccoli and Cheerios he wouldn’t eat. He was three, and he went two whole days not eating here and only eating at his mom’s. But, eventually, he did try some of my “weird food.” He now eats pretty normally. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a picky eater, but he will try new foods now, and has gotten used to the fact that Aunt Minta just doesn’t let kids eat crap. But see, he was three when we fought this battle…


At 16 months those reasoning skills just aren’t there. Likewise… a 16 month will just be a hungry ass until you give them what they want. So, right now, we’re mostly just eating bananas, peanut butter toast and avocados. Because everything else ends up on the floor to screams of “b’NANA!!!!!!!!!!  b’NANA!!!!!!!!!!!” (or, “mmmm st”, that would be mmm toast, which is what I say as I cut it up and put it on his tray, or “CAAAAAAAAAA-do”). Last week, it was eggs. Eggs, eggs and more eggs. Now, eggs are “cucky” and are met with a deliberate head shake and “hunh-uh.” This kid used to bash Indian food like nobody’s business. He was the baby garbage disposal. You needed food eaten? Give it to Baby G, much like Mikey, he’d eat anything. These days, not so much. He’ll eat 7 bananas in a day, or 3 pieces of PB toast in a sitting, sure… But pasta? You must be kidding!


Tell me this is just a phase. Tell me I’m not reaping the fruits of my judgement. Lie to me if you have to…