Because I am totally done with this snow. Screw you winter.

Me too Mama, me too.

Baby Evan is almost 11 months old and still does not eat anything. I’m getting to the point where – although what my obviously happy, healthy kid eats is NONE OF THEIR DAMN BUSINESS – people have started giving me funny looks when I turn down children’s menus and offers to “just let him try a little bit.” (Actual conversation with E’s boss at Christmas party – Boss: Oh, we didn’t plan any food for the baby. E: That’s ok, we brought food. Boss: What, like a bottle or something? E: …Or something.) It’s hard to explain to strangers that although Baby Evan will literally run across a room to grab the food from your hand, it’s gonna come right back out as soon as it hits his tongue.  All of my pockets are full of mushed up pieces of Cheerio the baby spit out and I had to pick up because I am not a jerk who leaves drooly bits of cereal all over the play area/pediatrician’s office/Target/your shirt. I’m also afraid people are starting to suspect I’m doing this on purpose, like some sort of extended breastfeeding Nazi who won’t let her kid eat any solid foods because I think BREAST IS SO MUCH THE BEST that everything else is unnecessary. “Anything?” people ask when I tell them he doesn’t eat, “Really? Have you tried Cheerios? My kid loves Cheerios. How about apple slices/Popsicles/mac and cheese/chicken nuggets/a whole turkey leg?” No, I say, not anything. But thanks.

I did talk to a nutritionist (also known as my friend Megan’s mom) about Baby Evan’s strange dietary habits and she assured me we were still well within the realm of normal child behavior.  She had plenty of stories of kids – her own included – who didn’t eat anything until 14, 15, 16 months. After looking over the list of foods that have gone over pretty well versus the list of total failures, we decided it was a texture things as well as an independence thing. Mushy food on a spoon is AWFUL. Crunchy things or anything he could potentially choke on are OK. Things he can chew with his many sharp little teeth are best. My plan of action is to just keep offering food – some food, any food, all food – until we find something that he’ll swallow, and work on “balanced and nutritionally sound” later.

Foods he hates even more than I hate Katy Perry
Oatmeal
Rice cereal
Baby food
Applesauce
Things eaten with a spoon
Pureed anything

Foods he almost ate once
Bacon
Avocado
Mango
Celery sticks
Carrot sticks
Banana nut Cheerios
Peas from some sort of Gerber baby stew meal
Yogurt
Grapes
Salmon
Hummus
Soybeans in their pods
Pasta

Foods almost worth feeding
Puffs
Teething biscuits
French fries
Conversation hearts Valentine candy

Foods he eats enough of to provide nutrition
None

Thanks God I got the hang of this breastfeeding thing. Hey at least it’s cheap, easy and always available.

Early in my high school days, I was very involved in a small group Bible study through my church, led by a lovely couple named Fred and Janet. They encouraged us to keep a journal of ideas and verses we discussed, our own personal thoughts and a running list of prayer requests. Going to this small group was the highlight of my week and it was the first place I felt like I was allowed to ask real questions about God and religion and beliefs.

Don’t worry, this post isn’t about all that. And no, I’m not going to try to convert you.

In the back of this journal full of Bible verses and deep thoughts like “Where did dinosaurs come from????” I kept a list of things I was looking for in my future husband. I wish I could find this journal to show you just how ridiculously specific some of my requests were (like, “must be taller than I am but not too tall it hurts my neck to look up a lot” and “older than me same age as me two years younger ok definitely older”) and I KNOW I still have it, but my attic is cold and the boxes of Christmas decorations are heavy and I have better things to do with my time than open five hundred tubs of depressingly skimpy sundresses and tank tops to find the one containing my Pink Box of High School Ridiculousness.

So you’ll just have to take my word for it that right at the top of my list, underlined twice, it says “Red hair so future children have red/blonde hair too”.

I think this is what they call a wish come true.

Since learning my new skill back in October, I’ve become quite dedicated to knitting and am really enjoying this hobby. I’ve even managed to complete a few projects well enough to gift them to friends and family, although my pile of badly made baby hats is shamefully large. I just can’t bring myself to give away a project I messed up, and messing up is about 50% of knitting – it’s called “frogging” because when you rip out stitches you “rip-it rip-it”. It’s pretty much the cutest way ever of saying YOU SUCK AT KNITTING and should find an easier hobby.

Since about a zillion people I know are having babies, I bought a book of book of baby knitting patterns to get started on a few specific gifts. I also bought what I thought was enough yarn for three teddy bears in three different colors, one of which would be my practice bear for Baby Evan before I attempted one for REDACTED (Let’s just say someone who might read this). Unfortunately, between mistakes and my inability to judge how much of a tail I need to cast on, I ended up one ear short with my yarn. Then Baby Evan was so excited to play with his new toy he ran off with the snout piece and I cannot find in anywhere. So now I’m waiting for my yarn order before I can remake the nose, sew on the nose and ears, stuff the head, and attach it to the body. This is what the finished bear is SUPPOSED to look like:

ADORABLE! via Ravelry.com

And here’s what my bear currently looks like:

Skeptical cat is skeptical of Headless Zombie Bear.

Of course, since Baby Evan wouldn’t keep his hands of the pieces before they were even stuffed, he’s seeing nothing wrong with Headless Zombie Bear and has started dragging him around already.

Zombie Baby enjoys a snack of headless bear.

I’m tempted to just leave Headless Zombie Bear headless and zombie-fied. I think a headless bear lovie is hilarious and would like nothing better than to send Baby Evan off to his first sleep over with my sad, pathetic first try of a bear and have him explain to people no, it’s SUPPOSED to look like this. I could start a whole trend of creepy, headless stuffed animals. Or maybe that’s where serial killers come from and I should keep my dark sense of humor to myself.

p.s. LOVE THE NEW CAMERA. It makes my crowded room and giant pile of plastic baby toys look all soft and colorful. And I still don’t know what I’m doing. Also: no red eye on my Zombie Baby!

Since I discovered the world of blogging was a lot bigger than me, Heather Armstrong and an internet friend I met in the comments section of Jezebel, I’ve begun reading and following a lot of people’s ramblings about their daily lives on the internet. There must be something about blogging that attracts really smart, funny people because I fall in love with new sites every day and my Google Reader has started begging me to please just read the ones I’ve already subscribed to before adding any more because it is full and tired and it’s feet hurt. Jeez, Google Reader, what are you? Pregnant? It would serve me right, since EVERYONE ELSE on the internet is up the stick.

One of the things that gets me every time when I find a new blog is how nice everyone else in the whole world’s pictures are. I feel like the only idiot left on the internet using a (fairly expensive but obviously useless) point-and-shoot camera instead of a fancy DSLR. My blurry, dark photos of the baby climbing over the dog pale in comparison to, say, The Pioneer Woman’s photos of cows grazing or Emily’s photos of her daughter Poppy doing, well, anything. If only I could capture the true essence and beauty of that moment when Baby Evan is perfectly balanced right across Brutus’ spine, the delicate way he smiles, the joy he finds in reaching out and grabbing the poor long suffering dog’s doggy business and yanks. That would be art, my friend. In my head, my terrible photos are the ONLY reason my blog is not incredibly popular, I am not incredibly famous, and no one ever stops me on the street to tell me how gorgeous my hair looks. BAD PHOTOS ARE RUINING MY LIFE.

So I bought a DSLR. A Nikon D90 DX 12.3MP Digital SLR Camera with 18-105mm f/3.5-5.6G ED AF-S VR DX Nikkor Zoom Lens to be exact. The first one E ordered turned out to be the European version which a) came with no warranty and b) came with an EU plug and was therefore useless here in Connecticut. We sent it back and filed the $33 shipping charge under “if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” But thanks to good old Amazon (and a child credit on our 2009 tax return WHAT WHAT) my new new camera arrived today.

Now if I only knew how to use it, I’d be taking some really fantastic photos.