Friday, March 13, 2009

It grows in bunches

Since this song is playing in my head all the time these days, I figured I might as well post a link to it.

And then he ate it!

So half an hour after my crazy rant about avocados being not just avocados, my son decides to eat it all. It's called hunger I guess.

Although it doesn't always work that way. I've had days where he is screaming with hunger but still won't eat whatever it is I'd like him to eat. Even if was the exact same thing he couldn't get enough of a few days ago. And by that I don't mean leftovers (just in case you were wondering).
I do have a friend who thinks I feed my son gross smelling and tasting stuff. And so when we visit her, she keeps trying to cook 'good stuff' for him. Until one day he spit perfectly good 'dosai' out. He didn't like it. Didn't want it. No way no how. Now I think she is more likely to sympathize with me.

I am in a better frame of mind today. Why? Kuttipa is napping. The weather outside is going to be nice. It's Friday which means a weekend of being with the husband. And I had a reasonably restful night last night. And...I don't know, sometimes it's just nice being alive, no?

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Not just an avocado.

Why won't my son eat avocado? Why? He used to love it. And now he won't eat even one spoonful of it. I've tried all kinds of different ways to present it to him and he still won't eat it. And why am I getting so worked up about it? It's just an avocado!! No, it isn't. But I don't know how to explain it.

The avocado is good for him. It's not just that though. If he ate the avocado, it means one less thing for me to figure out what's for lunch for him. Now I've to think of other things for him to eat. Things he still may not like and spit all over the kitchen floor. Which means even more figuring out. It's exhausting! This business of trying to figure out multiple times a day what he'll like and actually eat. And if he ate reasonably well, he'll go down for a nap maybe. Just maybe. Because if he doesn't nap, he'll be cranky and whiny for hours. And then he won't eat his snack or dinner and then he'll keep waking through the night and cry in hunger. Arrggh!

It's not just the avocado. It's all that it represents.

Okay, maybe I need a break!

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Nineteen minutes

More than a month has passed by since I blogged last. It's not for lack of things to write about. With Kuttipa in the house there can never a dearth of subjects. In this past month, he has learned to successfully climb up and down the stairs and loves to go down to the basement if he sees the gate open. He used to be able to clap his hands and wave bye-bye but seemed to forget it for the past few months. Now he is starting to remember again...

Actually the entire month of February has been a big blur. There were so many things on my to-do list for the month and they're all still not done yet. Work-related things and other things, such as getting rid of some of Kuttipa's old clothes and accessories. What did I do last month? I attended a book club meeting a week ago, but that's this month, not last month.

The book club meeting was good though. There were 10 of us and we've each picked a book to read and discuss at the meetings that will be held once a month. So I've got my reading list for the next 10 months. Next month's book is 'Nineteen minutes' by Jodi Picoult. I finished reading it last night after getting it from the library just a couple of days ago. I've got book-addiction issues and this book was particularly un-putdownable.

It deals with a high school shooting where 10 kids are killed and many more injured. The killer is a high school kid himself, one who has been bullied and pushed around and been the target of cruelty from other kids ever since he joined school. Pushed over the edge, he retaliates with a bloody massacre. The book is scary because you realize that any kid could be this kid.. perhaps yours (I hope not). Picoult challenges the notion that a kid who would do this must have terrible parents. Lacy, the mother of the shooter kid couldn't possibly be more caring or loving towards her son. And yet what happens, happens. In the aftermath she is left wondering about what she did wrong. Should she have been more loving, less loving, what? Her pain was described very well and I am thinking Picoult is probably a mother herself, else how could she possibly do this so well?

My instinctive response to this book was fear; Fear that Kuttipa might one day be the victim of bullying in school. But that's a while away and many things can happen between then and now. And I guess I can't protect him from every single thing life throws his way. I wish I could though!