The introduction of ‘meats’ to baby has begun. As a meat-eater myself, I will tell you that just opening the itty-bitty jars of baby food “meat” has been the grossest thing I’ve attempted in my new-momdom yet. It’s worse than the worst poop-attack. It’s worse than the chunkiest upchuck. I’m this close to making LadyP a vegetarian out of sheer laziness to deal with it. But I won’t… because I do believe in eating meat (even though I could really take it or leave it) and I’m a “Fab Mom”… remember? (Me neither.)
Today we started with chicken. Behold the sight. Eww. If you think it looks like catfood, you are correct. Smells like it too… But, Baby Must Meet Meat. So, in an effort to triumph, here are the twisted things I learned (warning to free spirits, you will not approve):
1) Fab-Moms must be sneaky: It’s OK to lie to your baby and tell her you’re spooning her squash when it’s really a scoopful of chicken mush with some squash on top to hide the fact that you’re lying to her. Because I love her.
2) Fab-Moms must force-feed (at times): Take charge of the screaming fit and high-chair temper tantrum by holding your little ones’ arms down as she shrieks and tries to sling-shot the chicken back at your face. Put the spoon up to her lips and insist a few more bites (suggested by my own Mom and Mom-in-law). Picky eaters aren’t born, they’re trained. Continue the force-feed for the next few days… if she still doesn’t like the taste, then back off. Because I love her.
3) Fab-Moms must be heartless (through a breaking heart) and hold their ground. If I let LadyP call the shots now (with something as basic and frequent as eating) then I’m sending her the message that she is in charge. The Mom is in charge… not the kid. (Call me old fashioned, but LadyP should learn this now.) Despite the sinking feeling in my tummy when I saw her eyes fill with tears (because she didn’t like the new taste in her spoonful), I shelved my instinct to swap the chicken for applesauce and forged ahead. We. Are. Trying. Chicken. TODAY. Laying a good foundation isn’t always easy, but it always seems to be worth it in the long run. Because I love her.
It was a war of wills between her, me and my inner soul that wanted to cave to make it easier… I stayed focused. Guess who won? (Me.)
After all the drama, we got half the chicken down and I got one of these:
Here’s to fighting for the fabulous struggle… with hope that you’re making your tomorrow better.
Got any suggestions (when it’s time for beef)?