The Veggie Masquerade

Not only do I have to hide teeny, tiny veggies amongst the rice, pasta or sauce for Gavin but the veggie masquerade continues with Baeleigh as well. She can spot a broccoli floret from 20 paces.

Their daycare provider cooks them homemade Korean food comprised almost entirely of veggies and oftentimes - gasp! - fish. If a sliver of green bean or cube of carrot even thinks about gracing their plate, it's rejected. A protruded lower lip and a quick whip of the head to the side accompanied by a sharp, "NO!". Or, dejected face, a shriveling of the body into the seat as if I melted her like the wicked witch synchronized perfectly with the hands bringing the hair into the face. Ugh.

I don't get it. Maybe I just need to make it easier on myself and just start pureeing it into the food. I'm not sure which requires more effort - thinking of ways to hide it or watching Baeleigh sit at the table for an hour and a half pout about her dinner. It doesn't sound very appetizing for me to eat that way - cauliflower in my mac-n-cheese, butternut squash pureed into my muffins, spinach in my brownies. Can you tell I've looked over Deceptively Delicious? If only I could find a happy medium.

Mommy-In-Training

Baeleigh begged and pleaded with Santa and any adult that would listen that she wanted a doll-baby that would eat and wet. The Kate Gosselin in me cringed at the picture this painted in my head. Baby food smeared all over everything and wet, or worse "dirty", diapers strewn all over the house. Like taking on the responsibilities of another baby without actually going through the pregnancy. Tommy is probably wondering if this counts as the third that we continue to debate over.

Regardless of my exhaustion over the sheer thought of the doll, we relented. Baeleigh opened up her Baby Alive on Christmas Day and was over the moon. Luckily, this happens to be only a "wetting" Baby Alive. No food required, except the "bottle" you feed her with to make her wet. Enter big sigh of relief here. Curious as to how this doll worked myself, I asked Baeleigh to feed her. She proceeded to hook up the straw to the Baby's mouth (apparently more of a sippie cup than a bottle set-up), then began the horrifying part - at least from a mother's perspective. Baeleigh then literally squeezed that Baby's belly so that the Baby could "suck" the water from the bottle. I can't help but wonder, though, what warped mind came up with exactly how this doll works. I know that she understands it's a toy, but it's just shocking to watch her learn how to be a mommy by practically force-feeding her baby to eat and pumping its stomach like she was performing CPR.

But there is more, later my dad and I were curious as to just how it "peeped" into the diaper. I investigated, unstrapping the diaper. How does it not just come running straight out? Well, apparently the whole exit hole is much smaller, the size of a pin. So, it trickles out. When I asked Baeleigh why I had two wet diapers sitting on my counter instead of the trash, she tells me "Mommy, that's what you do, you just let'em sit there and dry out?" Really? Can I do that with Gavin's diapers? Think of the money I'd save. Granted, the child's saving me from burning through her baby doll diapers, but again what in the world is this doll (or should I say her G - lol!) teaching her?!

Oh, and I don't know about you, but that Baby Alive is creepy looking. This photo above doesn't do its eyes justice. They are huge and darkly lined, bright blue. It certainly doesn't help as I'm reading the last of the Twilight series. You know, with the creepy baby dreams that Bella has?

This Is My Brain on Sprout...

Anyone wondering why I may be forgetful or ditsy at times. I can recite these on command. One only knows what other vital information is being purged from my brain to accommodate this baby "crack". There should be a warning for adults listening to this.

....Any questions?

Oh, and Happy New Year! Here's to 2010 and all that it brings!

TV Rots Your Brain

We got over 21 inches of snow this weekend, more than Baeleigh has EVER seen in her lifetime. She seemed excited to go out and play in it. At least until she actually went outside and played in it. I will grant her this, the snow came up to probably her upper thighs and was not that easy to walk in.

Saturday was just a quick romp with daddy. Some snowball fights, a couple of snow angels, being thrown into piles of snow. Sunday was shoveling day. So, Baeleigh was pretty much on her own, other than the few snow angels that she and I did together, attempting a snowman (not good snow for that) and me demonstrating that she could do a belly flop into the snow and not get hurt. After that, I had to help clear the impossible driveway (thinking that we would get our next door neighbor to help plow it for us - another story!). After about 10 minutes, I find her staring at us. I'm watching you guys, she says. The little supervisor. Are you serious?? Go play! How often do we get almost two feet of snow?! Go build a fort. No, I wanna help. So, I ask her to push the snow off to the sides of our perimeter we've created. That lasted about five minutes. I'm tiiiired, she says. Tired? You haven't done anything. I wanna go in. WHAT?! Are you crazy?! It's boring out here. Obviously, I need to read this kid some Calvin & Hobbes.

Now I can relate to not having a buddy to play in the snow with, but mommy and daddy had some (huh, a lot) of shoveling to do. So, I take another break to play in the snow with her, but the child is practically listless. I'll come out again tomorrow, she says. I wanna go back inside. Sad. SpongeBob wins over two feet of snow.

What is with these kids today? No imagination. I think I'll need to cut back on the TV watching. TV is rotting her brain. Maybe I should rethink the ski school trip this year too. Is she gonna just sit on the sidelines bored? Maybe just some snowtubing until I see more interest.

Musings of a Six Year Old

Baeleigh asked me tonight when daddy was going to be home. I told her that he was working late. Why? He's moving his office closer to home. Oh yeah, that's great! Mommy, you work really far away, why don't you move your office closer to home? Well, that's a little easier said than done, honey. Oh, is that because you aren't as strong as daddy?

You can't help but laugh, especially when I'm visually a 19-story building being carried on my shoulders.

Birthday Bae

Today my baby turns six. Though she'd hate to hear me call her "my baby". (That's Gavin right? She's the big girl.) Looking at her new pictures, though, it was hard to see just that. The baby-ness in her face is nearly gone, exclusive of those squeezable cheeks she's inherited from yours truly, and mommy has to come to grips with her baby growing up.

Baeleigh, I can see, struggles with that same dichotomy. She straddles the world of babies but also dipping her toe into childhood. She's a very smart and quick-witted girl, and this is easily confused with maturity ahead of her years. I often find myself debating and/or negotiating with my six-year old, only to remind myself that hey, I'm in charge here. Mind you, I fully expect these power struggles to persist throughout our relationship, and at times welcome it. Yet, Baeleigh also doubles as mommy's sidekick. She is the mirror image of me, my mini-me. I see a beautiful, smart, funny and gregarious little girl developing, and I am very proud of her. It's the willfulness and ambitious drive that I see so clearly in her that has also gotten me to this point in my life. I wish the same for her. I have high expectations, hopes and dreams for her. Happy birthday, my little monkey. I love you.

And, two days ago Miss Bae learned to tie her shoes. Just in time for her birthday.

Santa's Calling

In my devious attempt to pry Christmas ideas out of my 5-year old, I may have told my daughter a little white lie. Santa called me. Yep, you heard, he called me. Has me on speed dial. Asked me what Baeleigh, who was a good girl this year, wanted for Christmas. You see he was putting together his preliminary list of toys for all the good kids, and wanted to know if there was one thing in the whole wide world that Baeleigh wanted what it would be.

Baeleigh's eyes were practically bugging out of her head. Santa called? You? Yeah, that's right. Me. I'm very tight with Santa. Me and him go way back. The skeptical eyebrow is still raised. So, I coaxed, "If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?" "Weeeelllll," she said, looking frantically around the room like the idea was going to pop off the wall or from under the bed. "A doll that I can feed." Seriously? That's it. "Baeleigh, you have two dolls, both sitting in that crib over there and you don't play with either of them." "Ummmmm. I dunno." This was like pulling teeth. She's only pointed and practically shouted at me every time some new fangled toy comes on TV that mommy basically ignores the whole dramatic scene. Yeah, yeah, you want that. I get it. Ok, maybe I should have taken notes. So, sue me. The only thing I remember is Zhu Zhu pets, an annoying interactive hamster crappily made and of course the hottest thing since talking Elmo for this Christmas season. However, now that I've bought one of the damn things (at twice the retail price mind you) and persuaded my mother to purchase all the accessories, she doesn't even acknowledge the ad when it comes on TV. It's like the dollhouse and Littlest Pet Shop crap from last year that sites in the corner of the playroom as apparently the basement spiders' quarters.

After Baeleigh succeeded in fully frustrating her mother, what does she ask me? Mommy, how did Santa call you? My cell phone, duh. Mommy, Santa does not have a cell phone. Um, yes, he does. Give me his number, she says, drop dead serious. No way, Jose. Yes, Mommy. North Pole.

Satisfied, but I think still skeptical, she let it go. What is it with no mythical icons not being able to have cell phones?? I can understand her skepticism of the Easter Bunny. I mean come on, it's a four-legged furry animal, but Santa. Please. Cut mommy some slack and just play along. Ok?