Sunday, October 25, 2009

Fun at the Pumpkin Patch




Today, we loaded Luce into her new jogging stroller and walked to the pumpkin patch in downtown Simpsonville. The weather was absolutely beautiful, and we enjoyed the hints of color just beginning to tint the leaves. Lucy had great fun on the way, happily singing and pointing to the birds and even a passing jet. She had even more fun at the pumpkin patch. She laughed heartily at the mini-pumpkins and picked out her first one, a perfectly round miniature orange sphere with a long stalk. Of course we stopped for a photo op at the haystalks before trying to find a bigger pumpkin for carving. Luce had fun climbing on the larger pumpkins and rearranging the smaller ones. By the time we left, we had accumulated one mini pumpkin, a larger pumpkin, and a super fun, mini warty gourd. It was an awesome afternoon, and we can't wait to carve and paint our pumpkins this week. Pictures soon to come!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

No Party in Her Tummy

For anyone familiar with the wildy popular, 80's throwback children's show "Yo Gabba Gabba," you know the reference in the title of this post. Admit it, you find yourself humming the catchy, albeit cheesy, song "Party in my Tummy," as you go throughout your day, sometimes at the strangest moments. Those Gabba show writers are genius when it comes to brainwashing. I often find myself repeating such phrases as "It's not nice to hit your friends, not nice to hit your friends," or "Don't stop...don't give up," or Jamie's personal favorite"I like fish...I like fish." All of these with fun little beats mind you. We've learned to brush our teeth, drink water with meals, and eat our veggies. In fact, after watching the fun-loving, if slightly daft, green monster Brobie eat his veggies while singing "Party in my Tummy," I even want veggies myself. One member of our family, however, is completely immune to the slick phrasing of the show. Our very own Lucy. There is definitely no party in her tummy when it's time to eat her vegetables.

Little Luce used to love her veggies. As an infant, she would happily eat pounds of greenbeans. In fact, she preferred them to most any other food. But over the last few weeks, her love of veggies has turned into outright disdain. It began innocently enough. A few greenbeans thrown onto the ground here and there. Next, peas which she once popped happily into her mouth, became fun objects to squish and smash on her plate. I realized there was most certainly a vegetable "issue" while at our church homecoming a few weeks ago. Though she scarfed down her mac n'cheese and sweet orange delight, when I gave her a piece of squash, she immediately spit it out, gagging dramatically. When I offered her another piece, she pursed her lips and shook her head "No."

Since this fateful day, the scenario has repeated itself time and time again. Green beans...broccoli...squash...carrots...doesn't matter. She can spot a vegetable a mile away. And when she sees one folks, "she ain't happy."

Last night I thought I'd try to sneak squash into her meal by making a deliciously cheesy squash casserole. I figured that with all of the cheese and the cracker crust, my little dairy and carb-lover couldn't refuse. I watched with baited breath as she took her first bite. She began to chew. Yes! I thought. I've hit a home run. I felt rather pleased with my own cleverness. "Gack...puh!" She gagged again, this time with more of an air of superiority than surprise, spit the squash out, and looked at me, shaking her head "No." Frustrated, I poured myself another glass of wine and threw my hands in the air. This only served to make Luce angry. I gave in, cutting her a banana. "You cannot live on cheese, bananas, crackers, and turkey little girl," I told her as she happily ate her fruit.

Tonight, after receiving advice from lots of other mommies, I decided to try another approach: veggies incognito. I decided to make her favorite meal of mac n'cheese, but this time I threw in some finely shredded chicken and broccoli. I steamed the broccoli until it was practically mush. I mixed everything together and with a cheerful, yet nonchalent manner, put her plate onto the table. "Here ya go," I said, feigning disinterest.

I threw her a sideways glance, sure that she would immediately chow down on her favorite food. What baby can refuse this day-glo orange Kraft staple?

I saw her leaning over, looking at the food in front of her closely. She then sat up and began to shake her head "No." She picked up several pieces in her fingers, a sour expression on her face, and disdainfully threw them down.

I'm still not sure how she has the uncanny ability to recognize a veggie from sheer inspection alone. It's like she's the equivilant of a narcotics-sniffing dog only her nose is trained to sniff out clandestinely placed veggies from mom. Perhaps this will be a useful tool someday, but for now, the only thing it's good for is driving me bananas.