Breakfast Wars

Stubborn will against stubborn will turned Patrick's breakfast into an all-out war. By the end, it even resembled a war zone, with rice cereal splattered everywhere.

It all started before I'd even prepared the cereal. Patrick was upset with me for taking so long to get food in his belly, and he sure let me know. It was most certainly the cry of a hungry kid--hungry and impatient.

Hungry as he was, though, as soon as I got the rice cereal in front of him, he started turning up his nose at it. It only took a few bites for him to refuse to eat it. He pursed his lips, turned his head away, and even glared at me every time the spoon got near.

If I'd been in a better mood, I probably would have shrugged and thrown out the cereal and let him go hungry. Unfortunately, though, I was tired, cranky, and under the weather (another breast infection). His snobbery brought out the worst in me, and we engaged in a battle of wills...again.

I waited with each spoonful of cereal until he had a weak moment and I could sneak the cereal in his mouth. Then I admonished him to swallow so I could get another spoonful in. I griped at him when he would fuss at me. Every time he reached up to push the spoon away or dump the cereal off it, I pulled the spoon out of reach and slapped his hand. "No!" Then I held the spoon in front of his mouth again, waiting again for him to open.

The whole process took forever, and I found myself fighting to keep a semblance of patience. It was a cooler morning, so I'd warmed his cereal a bit longer than normal--not long enough to burn him, but enough that it wouldn't cool too quickly. Not that it mattered, though. Patrick took so long to eat that by the time he was halfway done, the cereal was a nasty, cold mush. There was no way I was going to warm it for him, however. He'd turned his nose up at it when it was warm, so I wasn't going to do anything out of my way to make it more appetizing. The meal was turning into a punishment.

I know that's probably one of the worst things I could do to encourage him to eat more. I think I even realized it at the time. I had flashes go through my head of stories my dad would tell about being forced to eat cold oatmeal for lunch and dinner because he wasn't able to finish it for breakfast. The last thing I want to do is give Patrick a reason to tell stories like that when he grows up. But I wasn't able to give in and let Patrick win.

I'll admit to my moment of bad parenting this morning and learn from it. I can't decide what would have been the best course of action, though. He needs to eat. I'm worried that he's still not gaining as much weight as he should be, so skipping a meal because he turns up his nose at it is not a good option. I also don't want Patrick to think that I'll find something more appetizing for him just because he doesn't like a meal. He needs to learn early that he eats what is prepared for him; even his doctor said as much a few weeks ago. Based on those other options, my reaction seems appropriate. But it didn't feel right to me then, and it still doesn't now. I don't know what is best, especially when none of the possible reactions was flawless.

Ok, enough of that. What do you think about the Princess Leia look for Halloween?
Yeah, he wasn't so fond of it either. Ooh, I know what would have been neat if I'd thought ahead. Matt could have gone as Han Solo, I could have been Princess Leia, and Patrick could have been an Ewok. How cute would that have been?

Remind me again why we still have a bumper in his bed?

We lowered the mattress in his crib this weekend, and we're still getting used to how much lower it is. He doesn't seem to mind it, though. The bed still sleeps the same, apparently. Now he can't reach the blankets hanging over the top of the crib, and he can't try to pull himself up, which he was just starting to do last week. It's more of a bed again and less a play area.

The exterminator just left. He confirmed that the smell in our bathroom is definitely a dead animal. Matt and I both breathed a sigh of relief (through our mouths). A dead animal may be disgusting, but it doesn't require major work on our house. Yeah, and this is the guy who kept telling me there was no way we had mice in our attic, even after Matt found mouse droppings and saw a mouse run in front of him. Matt also found a dead mouse stuck in a glue trap a few days ago. It was freshly dead, so not the source of the smell, but it confirmed there were mice in our attic after all. Now we just get to wait out the decomposing phase until the smell goes away.