This morning, Owen was hungry. Big surprise. I think Owen’s been hungry every morning of his life. When he was born he was so ravenous it was as if I’d been starving him in the womb – and I wasn’t, honest! He weighed 7 pounds 15 ounces! He’s been getting extra big snacks at daycare because I mentioned that the moment we get home he makes a bee-line for the kitchen for a “sack! sack! cheese! juice! de l’eau! cackis!” and I no longer know if it’s genuine hunger or just a habit. He’s a powerful little creature, too, so it’s clear we’re not starving him.

Anyway, this morning, after wolfing down a banana, some milk, and some juice, he started pointing in the general direction of the cupboard and the fridge, saying something that sounded like “chockit.” We assumed that he wanted to eat “nunny chockit” (chocolate bunny), but we’re all out (Easter was a month ago, after all) and anyway, no chocolate for breakfast. We eventually let him out of his high chair and he walked over to the fridge. Just as we were going to tell him to stay out of the fridge, our little boy pointed to the crayons and paper ON TOP of the fridge. Owen wanted to colour! Who knows what word he was saying that sounded like chocolate (maybe he meant brown? He has a book in which the colour brown is associated with a chocolate smear). In any case, after the colouring supplies came out, he was a happy camper. So (note to self) he’s not always trying to get food.

In all the excitement this morning, I forgot to give Owen his medicine for the ear infection. Second dose missed in 8 days. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but I wish I was someone who wouldn’t forget things like this. I don’t want to contribute to antibiotic resistant diseases and stuff like that. Bad self.

The lesson: try harder. On the other hand, I need to calm down. I think my heart has been racing for the past 2 months. I get stressed because I need to try harder to be a more effective (and calmer) parent. I just don’t know how to get to that happy place – and trying harder to get there seems counterproductive.

On Letting Go…

Right. So you know about the 5 second rule? Well, I’ve recently realized that I have about a 12 hour rule. I don’t always remember to sweep under the high chair when Owen is finished eating. Mostly, but not always. And he’s not super messy, but invariably, some food will end up under his chair. Well, he’s kind of become his own dog. He has taken to foraging under his high chair when he’s looking for a snack. And I guess my lack of sweeping is reinforcing his behaviour, because often, his foraging will pay off.

For a while, this habit of his disgusted me, and I’d rush over and pry a cheerio or a piece of strawberry out of his mouth. He would scream like it was the biggest betrayal ever. He screamed just as loud when we removed rocks and periwinkles from his mouth at the beach. Anyway, now I just let him eat it. And I try to sweep under there at least once a day. I think it’s a bit gross but I also think he’ll be fine.

Yesterday we were hanging out in the living room with my parents and Owen kept leaving us and going into the kitchen. After fighting this for a while, I followed him. He immediately crawled to his high chair and started looking for food. I hauled him back again (almost kicking and screaming). He crawled back and found the box of shreddies (on the floor because there was no room on the shelf). And he pointed at it and grunted “uhn.” Then he tried to open the box.

So I gave him dinner.

There’s no moral to this story. I was just feeling confessional.