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  • The Way to a Child’s Heart

    I have a fear of sugar.  I love it, and am personally a big fan of sugary num nums… but lets face it, sugar is addictive and is like going to Studio 54  when you are a kid.   I know I can’t keep The Munch from it forever, but  she has the rest of her life to deal with a sugar addiction.

    So I figure if I never let The Munch taste sweets she won’t really know what she was missing.  For instance, we once went to a birthday party where there were cupcakes with green frosting. Did they look delicious? Yes absolutely.  But it was already 7pm and I didn’t feel like experimenting with how she was going to react, even though I knew she was being deprived.  But lucky for me, Munch had no idea what all the other kids were happily devouring while their faces were covered in green sugary substances.

    “Mamma they are eating avocado??”

    “Mmmmm… Yes Munch they are.”

    However, this morning I was so exhausted from my week-and then weekend from hell- that my high and mighty rules spiraled down the toilet.  For breakfast we had strawberry pancakes from a restaurant that provided a cup of maple syrup to accompany them.  Pretty standard policy, but Munch had never seen liquid sugar before.

    “Mamma what’s that?”

    “Nothing Munch… just eat your dry bland pancakes.”

    “Is that dippy dippy for my pancakes?”

    “You want to dippy dippy your pancakes in this?”


    I am not a monster, (especially with such cute vernacular as dippy dippy) so I took a bite of pancake and just slightly dipped the tip in the syrup for her to get a taste.

    “Mamma, I like it, I want more.”

    “Okay Munch, here let Mamma do it so you don’t get too much.”

    “No! Let Munchee do it! I want to do it.  I want to dippy dippy.”

    “Munch, let mamma do it, I don’t want you to get messy or eat too much.”

    “I want to do it Mamma! Waaaahhhhhhaaaa”

    “Fine, here, just dippy dippy a little at a time okay?”

    And at first things were fine.  In a very civilized manner she would dip her pancake in the cup of syrup and life seemed okay.  So I spaced out, or looked at my phone… probably looked at my phone… fine I was definitely looking at my phone okay!? Gawd….  But when I looked up MUNCH WAS DRINKING THE SYRUP!! She literally drank the entire cup of maple syrup like it was vodka.

    Sigh…. Just goes to show you that you cannot prevent the inevitable.  Kids like sugar.

    “Uhhhh yeah… pretty sure that syrup was awesome!”



    September 24, 2012 • 2 years old, baby body, baby brain, Eating, Health • Views: 1377

  • Why Did I Let You Do That?

    Consistency is a pivotal part of any successful training method, be it with a dog, child, or man. You have to maintain a strict set of rules so the boundaries are clear. I find this to be a lot easier with beasts that drool and can be easily satiated with meat, but children are a bit more complex.

    If I am totally focused on The Munch and prepared for whatever emotional outcome my rules might inspire, then I can be decent at monitoring her behavior and making sure she follows them. Come to think of it, I don’t have that many rules for her to obey. Don’t touch mommy’s computer, don’t use mommy’s phone to make calls to people mommy doesn’t want to talk to, and don’t drink martinis before sunset.

    Recently The Munch has gotten really interested in standing in her high chair while she is eating. When this first began I would be very stern, tell her to “sit down,” and she would comply. But then one fateful day I was talking on the phone having a pretty intense conversation and The Munch just kept standing in her dumb chair. I got embarrassed telling her to sit down every 7 seconds so I lurked over her and fed her as I yammered on, figuring she would forget about this one lackadaisical moment.

    Do you see where this is going?

    Now every time she sits down to eat I spend 90% of the time threatening her, coaxing her, counting to three, looking mad, and then getting up to physically take her from the chair. It is only just as I am about to pick her up that she sits down, so my entire meal is spent working on my thighs I have to get up so many times.

    So what lessons have I learnt? Well, for one that my ass is looking amazing, and for two to press mute when it is not my turn to talk on the phone so I can keep telling my kid what to do but act like I am paying attention.

    January 18, 2012 • 1 year old, baby brain, Behavior, Disciplining, Eating, Parenting • Views: 1220

  • Baby Crack—-er

    I think I know why you aren’t supposed to offer babies drugs. They have no will power, zero self-control, and are super annoying when you don’t give them what they want. I think my new idea of hell is being around a baby 2-days sober, just kicking a crystal meth habit, whose trying to quite smoking.

    In The Munch’s case her crack is these “bunny” branded granola bars she calls “cracker.”

    I can make her a meal fit for the Ritz Carleton and she will still point at the cabinet and demand I give her a “cracker.” We can be outside having the time of our lives playing in the snow, juggling fire, as I balance a litter of kittens on my head who are making balloon animals and blowing bubbles, and all that has to happen to ruin our time is for her to think of a cracker. If the word utters past her lips and I don’t pull one out of some orifice immediately a meltdown of epic proportions commences. She will literally fall to the floor like I just told her she came in second place in the toddlers in tiaras pageant crying “cracker, cracker, cracker.”

    And of course, the stupid hippy health food store I buy this baby crack at discontinued ordering them! What is wrong with these dirty-tree humping-lotus tattooed-raw cacao snorting-jerk offs? Can’t they keep their twigs and berries in stock? Thank the multiverse my mom just ordered a box of them so my baby can have her fix!

    “Ahhhhh what is this protective layering over my cracker!”

    Notice the trail of tears on her cheeks… tears of unfathomable sadness because I didn’t open her cracker fast enough.”

    December 27, 2011 • 1 year old, baby brain, Behavior, Eating, Health • Views: 27901

  • My Problem With Peas

    I never thought this would happen to me. I always thought things would be different. That somehow this wouldn’t ever be my problem. Maybe I was arrogant, or naïve, but now that I am living with this I don’t know what I am going to do.

    I have a child that sticks peas up her nose.

    Is there a support group for this?

    The Munch can no longer enjoy peas while playing around the house because I have to monitor her pea eating as if I were a warden. If I don’t, she will come up to me and say “uh oh… peas” and there will be one lodged in her nasal cavity halfway to her brain.

    They are not easy to get out either, and I sweat like a whore in church while I try to extract them in fear of pushing it up further. Now I am on an anxiety spiral wondering what other produce she will get up there. One thing I know for sure is that I am keeping her away from carrots for a while.

    “So you are saying the only place I can put these things is in my mouth? BORING!”

    “Maybe The Munch has a point… they really are a perfect fit…”

    December 23, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, baby body, baby brain, Eating • Views: 1393

  • Cookie Catastrophe

    I am really uptight about food quality, at least when I have control over what I eat, or what I feed The Munch. I am fully aware of how annoying I can be, but it is only because I have over educated myself on the subject. I know too much, and you can’t unlearn something once you know it. Except for fractions…

    My crusade began in college when a friend of mine told me about partially hydrogenated oils and I transformed from someone who ate Hamburger Helper and Rice-A-Roni to the orgamazon that I am today. Food that is over processed and garnished with chemicals doesn’t even taste like food to me any more, so you can imagine my self-rightous horror when a friend brought over hydrogenated cookies as a gift for a dinner party. Now, I am not a sociopath, so of course I didn’t say anything, but I was not about to put one of those maple cream cookies in my mouth even if I knew they had the potential to be delicious. After my friend left I debated throwing them out, but could’t rationalize it thinking of my dead Grandmother who having escaped her motherland during WW2, instilled the value in me never to waste food. Besides, I figured someone else would enjoy them who isn’t as holier than though as I act.

    Okay… fast forward a few days… The Munch has a cold all weekend and is not sleeping. Awesome. I had a dance rehearsal and decided it would be best if the baby sitter watched her… the baby sitter who I LOVE mind you…. but who will not say no to The Munch…EVER. She doesn’t like it when she cries because it hurts her heart. Oh… she is so sweet it is painful.

    When the baby sitter brought her to me this fateful afternoon she told me “She did not eat much… but she wanted cracker… so I gave her two… and I had one.”

    “Liliana, you can have 10,000 crackers. Help yourself!” It didn’t occur to me that it was odd she mentioned she had 1 cracker… I didn’t even think about it. I went into the kitchen, and saw the cookies had moved from the counter to the table. Again, I didn’t over think this assuming someone had moved them and figured they had just moved them selves like cookies sometimes do. No big deal.

    I then sat on the couch and found a cookie with little tiny Munchee bites taken out of it. It then occurred to me… THE MUNCH CALLS EVERYTHING CRACKER! She calls granola bars crackers, pasta crackers, crackers crackers. As I held the cookie in horror knowing this was the most sugar The Munch has had in her entire life I watched her talking to herself about starting a band, throwing every book out of the book shelf, trying to sit on the cat, and them climb up to the second shelf of the fridge all within in 75 seconds. She was high as f*ck.

    I could see the scene in my head. Her grunting at the cookies, Liliana trying to figure out what she wanted… and of course… of course… it was the cookies.

    Sigh… I threw them out.

    “Ummmm I don’t feel so good”

    November 21, 2011 • 1 year old, 1st time for everything, Adventures, baby body, Eating, Health • Views: 1495

  • Stupid Priorities

    How well do you treat yourself? If your underwear is dirty do you change it immediately, or figure it can wait until tomorrow morning’s shower. Do you make sure everyone washes their hands before they shake yours, or hold you? Do you eat the moment you feel hungry, or feel like if starvation is a good enough diet for Hollywood, it is good enough for you?

    I used to take really good care of myself. I would get massages and acupuncture, sleep 8 hours a night, see energy workers be really intentional about the food I ate. You could call me picky… healthy…anorexic… but now I don’t give a care what I put in my mouth because I am so busy worrying about what to feed The Munch. The more I care about her, the less room I have in my brain to care about me. I over-prioritize her while I under-prioritize myself. I stress about if she is going to like what I am making her, if she is served enough vegetables, what her protein to carb ratio is, all while I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich over the sink.

    So I got this idea in my head to make The Munch quinoa cakes. Simple enough right? Just follow a stupid recipe…

    Why quinoa you may ask? Well, because the box said it was this super ancient grain the Aztecs ate while reading minds and predicting the future.

    So I literally spent 4 hours chopping and grating vegetables, making the stupid quinoa, going out to the chickens and plucking eggs from under their butts, all to make these pancakes. But of course by the time everything was made, the pancakes didn’t stick together for shit. I would have had an easier time constructing a pancake out of a limp penis then this stupid batter I just slaved away making.

    So at this point I am furious. Furious at the world. Furious at the guy who posted this stupid recipe. Furious at the Aztecs for being so prolific.

    I decided that what was needed was flour, which actually worked, and I made the stupid patties.

    “You better like these goddamn quinoa pancakes Munch so help me God….”

    Of course she didn’t… so I gave her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead.

    September 22, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, Eating, Health • Views: 1800

  • Emotional Terrorist

    Sometimes I wonder if my baby is an emotional terrorist.

    I have this daily responsibility of feeding her right? The goal of which is for her to put food in her mouth, masticate on it, swallow it, digest it, and survive another day. Part of my ensuring her continuation of life is this “feeding” process, so you think she would cooperate with it.


    Every time she picks up a piece of food she brings it towards her mouth like she is going to eat it, but half the time she puts it in her mouth and half the time she throws it on the floor. There is no discernable pattern to this behavior so I can never anticipate what she is going to do only furthering my emotional mania.

    I have tried every strategy of manipulation short of bribery, and that is only because she doesn’t get the idea of materialism and puts money in her mouth, which is seriously gross. The Munch just looks me dead in the eye and throws her food on the floor. Her face is so defiant I fluctuate between wanting to punch her in the throat and laughing hysterically.

    I got so frustrated the other day I took The Munch out of her chair before she was done eating and put her on the floor to see the mess she had made.

    “Okay kid… why don’t you just feel the pains of hunger if you are going to throw your food and think of all the starving children out there in the world.”

    But she kept coming up to me and pointing towards the food and grunting urgently like she was famished. I started to feel guilty denying her, so I gave her a piece of what I was eating and she put it to her mouth like she was going to eat, it and then instead of throwing it on the floor, she threw it up on the table.

    “What are you going to do about it?”

    Wouldn’t this drive you nuts??

    August 29, 2011 • 1 year old, Disciplining, Eating, Parenting • Views: 1559