pop open the bubbly

Okay, so in our case that bubbly is sparkling cider, but whatever. So, as soon as we can get the munchkin to bed, Cardo and I are going to sip our cider and watch the incoming of Obama and Biden. A nice way to relax before I start what should be my last semester here.

As for said munchkin, I'm ready to bundle her in some soft, cushy blankets, stuff her in a box and send her to anyone willing to take her. I'm trying not to engage in the The Great Food Battle, but argh this child makes me in-freaking-sane. It takes her seventy-five years to finish dinner. I'm about to give up on having any dessert-type items because that's all she really cares about. Believe you me, I'm all sorts of cheesy when it comes to promoting the healthier fare. 'Mmm! Broccoli! It's so great! Isn't it great?!' I'll also share stories with Pic about how sometimes you have to try a certain food a lot of times before you like it. I tell her that she has to at least taste everything we put before her. There are many nights when she ends up not having a treat and I tell her, in a not-exactly-nice tone, 'If you're hungry later, that's what you're eating,' while pointing to her largely-untouched dinner plate. I am tired and now I'm battling with myself. I keep thinking, 'I don't care. I don't care what she eats. I don't care if she ever eats dinner again. Just give her what she wants so the crying stops.' But, ha! I refuse to travel that road.

To be fair, the crying is a seldomly-heard occurrence. I try to remain calm. I'll tell her, 'It's time to eat dinner, so please eat. That's the end of the conversation.' (I know those final words there will come back to haunt me all-too-soon.) I'd like to think that my veneer hasn't cracked yet, but underneath, I'm seething. I'm thinking my parents might have felt the same with me and I remain one of the pickiest eaters ever, but I still eat my freaking healthy food (or my 'grow food' as Pic refers to it).

I know that I don't want to make food a huge issue with Pic, like it is with me. I just don't know how to do that. I know that others have it much worse than we do. Our child does not solely consume boxed pasta with powdered cheese sauce (excuse me while I retch). She loves fruit and some vegetables ('leaves' for example...her word for spinach (and thanks to Ms J for bringing some raw spinach over because now we know Pic likes it)). She doesn't complain that I only let her have one cup of watered-down juice a day. It's just that, at the end of the day, I'm tired and my patience has worn thin and I just want her to eat what's on her plate.

Please just remind me that consistency now is worth it no matter how much I just want to go to sleep and let her eat whatever. Thanks.

That's the end of my pathetic, whiny rant...for now.