This weekend, Mommy & Daddy gived me cereal to eat – with a SPOON!
At first I was all “Whhhaaaaaat?”
Then I thought “Yuuuummm!”
Do you know how good cereal is? It’s so good I just had to lick it off my bib between bites!
But then Mommy putted me in my high chair and I said “No way Mommy! This thing is a car seat in disguise!” (I did stop yelling to take my bites though – did I mention I love cereal?)
And then I thought about it some more and figured anywhere I sits to gets fed is ok by me!
Nom nom nom, is it dinnertime again soon?
I see a lot of parent activism about peanut allergies – attempts to ban peanuts from classrooms, ballparks, and airplanes are calls to action that make the news and break your heart with stories of kids who have needlessly died from a severe reaction to coming into contact with peanuts. My heart breaks too when I see that, but all of these stories also seem to have another thing in common: an irresponsible use of the term “food allergy.”
Even before PJ came along, meal planning was really difficult for us. Paul and I both work in the HVAC industry, which is ruled by the weather. The length of his day has wild swings from getting home in the early afternoon to late in the evening. And mine is ruled by traffic, which varies from annoying to tear your hair out awful. So even when I had it together enough to have a meal plan (not as often as I would like), we would end up throwing it out the window. And then what’s the point?
I’ve heard lots of “You’re not a real mom until you’ve…” things, and I hereby submit my day for the respectful consideration of the Real Mom Committee. You may see this sweet little face and think “Awww, what a cutie!”
And you would be right. However, the following is also true:
Mommy isn’t the only one writing about how PJ spends his days! Take a look at the essay my friend Janice found in her daughter Kalli’s backpack after they watched him for a day – guaranteed to melt you into a puddle of cuteness!
Yesterday, I left for work wondering if I would make it home. The gas needle was hovering in dangerous territory, I had extra stops to make before and after I got to work, and not having my full paycheck since May has really caught up to us. So, I was running through plans A to Z of what could happen in the next twelve hours.
Last weekend, I got an awesome package in the mail from my friend Andrea, who is also a preemie mom. She put together a CD for her little guy’s first birthday and sent it to me because she thought I would especially love the first song – and I did! I can’t believe that PJ is four months old now, and how far he’s already come from that tiny little guy in the NICU all hooked up to wires and tubes! So let’s celebrate little man today, and take a listen to the song Andrea picked out just for these mighty little guys:
Yeah, that’s my dog! Na na na na na na (catchy, isn’t it?)
I started and deleted four different posts tonight. Everything from the shallow waters of The Voice premiere (Team Blake!) to deep thoughts about some of the ugliness we see around us daily.
And then my sweet, powdery, slightly sweaty, milky, drooling, smiling, babbling baby snuggled into my shoulder and started snoring.
And I forgot it all.
At least I look cute in my fan gear.
In the weeks before I went back to work, I started filling up my freezer so that I wouldn’t need to waste any valuable snuggle time cooking in the evenings. It worked great, and we just finished up the last tray this week. I’m working on my grocery list for next weekend to make another few batches. I’ll post some of my favorite recipes as I make them, and today I’ll fill you in on my technique.