I have a dream. That dream is to be invited to a formal affair where I can don a floor-length floral dress. Fancy friends, you have the power to make that dream come true. Anyone wanna host a ball? And lend me some Dolce & Gabbana money?
This week’s low: Being locked out of the house — without a phone or a computer.
I was almost home from the dentist on Wednesday — looking forward to an empty house, since Matthew and Ursula were downtown running some errands — when I realized that I didn’t have a house key. And my phone had 2% battery life.
I didn’t know when my family would be home. I couldn’t work on the articles due that afternoon.
This week’s high: Being locked out of the house — without a phone or a computer.
I bought a cheap notebook at a nearby convenience store, bought a coffee — eventually: two — and a cookie at my favourite haunt, quickly texted Matthew to swing by the coffee shop on his way home since my phone was thisclose to dying, and brainstormed on paper until he and Sully came to my rescue.
Unplugging for two hours was exactly what I needed.
For me, the perfect day must include three things: grapes, raisins and wine.
I’m easy to please.
On these perfect days, I physically consume almost every possibility, every potential life trajectory of the grape. It’s like…eating an entire Choose Your Own Adventure novel. Should’ve named my daughter Merlot or Syrah, that’s how much I love the grape.
Turtlenecks are in again. I predicted this two years ago. I also predicted the overalls resurgence. I’m sartorially clairvoyant.
She bakes raisin bran muffins! (Proof: her recipe.) I had Raisin Bran this morning! See?! BFFs.
How to end a day well: a glass of wine and a flawless updo. #hairgoals
We really should get together soon to gossip about Gregory Peck and striped shirts over a drink or two. It’s been too long.
(And, yes, you can gossip about shirts: “I saw a shirt today with a solid back, can you imagine? What’s the point of a stripe if it doesn’t go all the way around? Embarrassing.And don’t get me started on the white-stripe count. Pour me another glass, Audrey. I’m getting worked up over faux-bretons again.”)
Yesterday, my 9-month-old daughter (!!!!) ate some of each of the above items. Not bad, huh?
There’s no wrong way to feed a baby. Scratch that. Don’t feed your wee one a diet of 100% Cheetos. (95%? Maybe.)
We have friends who fed their babies iron-fortified cereals and baby food. The kids turned out fine. Others adopted the Sprout Right method. Wonderful. We’re doing Baby Led Weaning. It’s been awesome so far.
Our family doctor — a gem of a find when I was 8 months pregnant — has the most encouraging approach to introducing solid foods:
Do whatever works for you. Or do what your mom did. Just don’t introduce too many foods at a time (at first), and make sure your babe is getting some iron. The end.
I can live with that.
Anywho. Back to Baby-Led Weaning.
It made sense for us. I get to eat WITH my child instead of just make her food, feed her the food, and then wonder why I’m so hungry all the time. AND I don’t have to make baby food. She’s eating real food. The kind of food that goes on my grocery list anyway.
We’re eating meals as a family, 100% blender-free, and everyone’s happy.
(Warning: It can be messy. Like, M-E-S-S-Y. Especially on Let Your Kid Feed Herself Yogurt Day. Buy a few bibs and don’t dress your offspring in silk.)
The surprising benefit of this approach is that my lunches are healthier than they’ve ever been. If she’s eating eggs, avocado, cucumber, tomato and berries, so am I! I’m “eating the rainbow” as nutritionists everywhere advise.
It allays my fear that life with kids turns your diet into a revolving door of pasta-a-la-pasta, grilled cheese and pizza pockets. It doesn’t have to be that way. At all. I’ve got a baby who already loves roasted eggplant, beef brisket and kiwi. (Maybe all at the same time. Who am I to judge?) We’re off to an encouraging start.
I look forward to cooking with her. To shopping at the market with her. Maybe even to gardening with her.
Today I’m thankful for a kid who makes me eat my veggies.
Happy 9 months, Ursula. I love sharing my (baked) sweet potato fries with you. (And I don’t usually share those.)
P.S. I still eat cookies during her nap sometimes. Because I’m not a robot or a Paltrow.
P.P.S. Not every food is an instant win. Two days ago, Ursula refused to eat broccoli. Fortunately, Pixar is always right. An airplane had to intervene.
If someone tells you that having a dog is good practice for having a baby, that individual has never had a baby.
(Also, if you start with a puppy, note that you will be stuck with a dog when you do eventually decide to have a baby. Unless you’re waiting for that puppy to grow old and die. In which case, good luck, ovaries. Some canines live forever.)
Yesterday, I took the carrier — we LOVE this one — out of the front closet and asked Ursula, who was on her hind legs standing up in the crib, if she’d like to go for a walk.