Wednesday, November 2, 2011

A mid-week post...don't get used to this

First, I wanted to direct you all to my friend Sarah's blog, La Casa di Frigerio.  She asked me to write a guest post about imperfect parenting.  Being an expert on the topic, I was obliged to do so.  Warning:  my post is about my breastfeeding failures.  So if the words boob, nipple or breast bother you then don't read the post but do check out the rest of her blog.  She's super smart and witty as hell.  I often have to grab my thesaurus when we talk or I just nod like I know what she's saying.

Second, I had to share my experience from the park: 

Today, because it's still 70 degrees outside for some bizarre reason, I took the girls to the park.  There is a lovely park here that is full of mature trees and encircles a lake.  It has paved walking trails and several separate play structures.  We like to park the car and walk the trail loop hitting both playgrounds and hopefully wearing out a certain little girl. 

I don't often go by myself with an infant and a very brave 20 month old, but sometimes I'm stupid brave enough.  Today was such a day.  When I arrived at the first playground there was a father arriving as well with his very cute little girl in an extremely complex looking child carrier/backpack thingie.  We exchanged the usual pleasantries, "how old is she?"  "She's adorable." etc.  Then as I am attempting to feed Claire her snack I note that this daddy has pulled out his green glass water bottle and one of those clearly-purchased-from-the-organic-section containers of dried fruit.  I looked down at my Sonic bag of cheddar bites, ranch, apples and styrofoam cup of high fructose corn syrup(for me, not Claire) and got all sorts of self-conscious. 

At that moment, and right on cue, my child refuses to eat the apples Sonic had so lovingly sliced and bagged for her and insists on having a cheddar bite.  Shit.  I mean, really?  It's not just that it's cheese, it's fried cheese.  So I say to Claire as I hand her a half piece of lard dipped in lard and fried in lard, *nervous laugh* "don't tell daddy!"  Okay, so if you know my husband you probably know that while he does care what the girls eat, he would likely deem cheddar bites an appropriate meal.  I said meal, not snack.  He once fed Claire tator-tots as dinner.  This was my way of implying that we don't usually eat cheddar bites, eh-hem, cough cough.  Like, this is a one time thing, I swear, man I don't even know.  I'm sure he didn't even notice.  I all but threw the bites on the ground while shouting, "How dare those Sonic employees give us cheddar bites!  Don't they know we only eat local, organic foods?  Whew, that was close!"

Moral of the story, I am absolutely out of  my mind and the world is judging me for it.  Okay, maybe just the first part. 

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