I know you won't believe me, because it seems to be half of what I write about, but I really don't talk about food and feeding my daughter all of the time.
But I think I had a breakthrough and I'd like to share. I previously had all kinds of misgivings about giving our daughter juice, period. Thought it would rot her teeth, give her empty calories or at least take the place of much more nutritious calories. I had control freak fits with my husband about it. Water and breast milk only! So I was reading about how juice is a good way to get some vitamin C into kids at the same time you give them iron, which you want to do to help them absorb the iron. So I decide to call my husband to tell him I've reversed my stance on juice in my usual whiplash-like fashion.
And it suddenly (finally) dawns on me the way I've been talking to him about feeding her all along: like everybody in the world (including him) is trying to force poison down her throat and I am her lone defender. Like he's a moron who is going to put slurpees in her sippy cup. As soon as I would read something about nutrition I would get all anxious that he was doing the opposite and I would call to demand that he do it a certain way. It occurred to me that I could share what I'd been learning with him, and, being the reasonable human being that I've always known him to be, he could probably wrap his mind about the food choices I was trying to make. He may even have some good common sense ideas to help make sure she's well-fed without going off of the fear-based deep end. We could even *gasp* make decisions about what she eats together. That he actually cares about her as much as I do.
So I called him to tell him that. And to apologize. And he accepted my apology and told me I'd hit the nail on the head, with the treating him like a sub-intelligent human being. It felt really good to start to make nice with him about that. It'll be good practice for the approximately 20 billion apologies I'll be issuing to anonydad and anonybabe over the course of my lifetime as I figure out how to wife and mom with a little love and style and grace. Okay, maybe just the love. But they do say you have to shoot for the stars to hit the moon.
But I think I had a breakthrough and I'd like to share. I previously had all kinds of misgivings about giving our daughter juice, period. Thought it would rot her teeth, give her empty calories or at least take the place of much more nutritious calories. I had control freak fits with my husband about it. Water and breast milk only! So I was reading about how juice is a good way to get some vitamin C into kids at the same time you give them iron, which you want to do to help them absorb the iron. So I decide to call my husband to tell him I've reversed my stance on juice in my usual whiplash-like fashion.
And it suddenly (finally) dawns on me the way I've been talking to him about feeding her all along: like everybody in the world (including him) is trying to force poison down her throat and I am her lone defender. Like he's a moron who is going to put slurpees in her sippy cup. As soon as I would read something about nutrition I would get all anxious that he was doing the opposite and I would call to demand that he do it a certain way. It occurred to me that I could share what I'd been learning with him, and, being the reasonable human being that I've always known him to be, he could probably wrap his mind about the food choices I was trying to make. He may even have some good common sense ideas to help make sure she's well-fed without going off of the fear-based deep end. We could even *gasp* make decisions about what she eats together. That he actually cares about her as much as I do.
So I called him to tell him that. And to apologize. And he accepted my apology and told me I'd hit the nail on the head, with the treating him like a sub-intelligent human being. It felt really good to start to make nice with him about that. It'll be good practice for the approximately 20 billion apologies I'll be issuing to anonydad and anonybabe over the course of my lifetime as I figure out how to wife and mom with a little love and style and grace. Okay, maybe just the love. But they do say you have to shoot for the stars to hit the moon.
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