{Theme Thursday} Food

It's Thursday again!  Linking up with Cari :)  This week, I was totally going to take the beautiful picture of a well prepared meal.....*screeching tires*.....that would mean I'd have to have planned ahead (more than in my head thinking about it this week) or already be up and at 'em preparing something gorgeous this morning.

Well, in accordance with This Thursday post, for part of my weekly routine, I've been lacing up my workout shoes on Tuesday and Thursday morning before the crack of dawn.  The workout starts at 5:45am, about a 10 minute drive from the house.  So, when I get home stinky and exhausted at 7am, about the most I can do is scramble some eggs.

But, as I held my 14 month old and watched my husband get ready to leave this morning, I thought about how my 14 month old and food are in a relationship....it's pretty serious.  True. Love.

When I was 36 weeks pregnant, Sweet Pea was diagnosed with IUGR, which stands for intrauterine growth retardation.  Basically meaning, she had stopped getting food fast enough.  She managed to slowly gain weight and pass non-stress tests for five weeks.  At 41 weeks, the day after my 31st birthday, I was induced, and 12 hours later, gave birth to a whopping 6lb4oz baby.  She was 18.5", so that 6lbs was spread pretty thin.  The child has done nothing but eat since she was born.

Skinny baby, ready to eat! (2 days)

Did you say there's food here? (5 months)

Leaving a crumb trail on Daddy's shoulder

The Big Eater today (14 months)

Another crumb trail on my pants

 Sweet Pea's real relationship with food began around 6 months.  She loved nursing, but when we moved on to solids and semi-solids....forget about it!  The first day, she hated it.  She cried and cried in her little chair, unsure of why we would be trying to shove applesauce into the milk-hole.

A few weeks later, she started getting the hang of it.  Then the really impressive feats started occurring.  At eight months, she could eat her body weight (it was only 14 pounds, but still!).

By a year, she had gotten the nickname, "The Trucker", which might make truckers feel embarrassed to be compared to such a ravenous eater.

Lately, I've noticed that eating is becoming a full body experience.  Two nights ago, we had spaghetti.  Every few bites, she took her bright red hands and massaged them through her four hairs.

See how pretty her little hairs are?  Now, with a normal child, massaging your hands through your hair with spaghetti sauce lands you in the bath....you play, you splash, you come out smelling lovely, life is grand.

This child also happens to be the president of the Anti-Bath Brigade.  When we bring her into the bathroom, she gets a little wary...after all, she's not allowed to unroll the toilet paper, which is the only reason she wants to be there.

As we start undressing her, she starts to make nervous squeaks.

When the diaper comes off, she starts SHAKING.  Full body tremors.  Before she's even in the water. 

*Starting to lift her over the side* SCREAMS.  Someone is trying to kill her - she's positive!

So, as I try to wash whatever she's gotten into off, she is shaking/screaming/crying her way through the entire 60 seconds ordeal (special thanks to the creator of shampoo-body wash baby combos).

We do the suds and rinse routine quickly and she's more than ready when the towel meets her from the other side of the Great Divide that is the tub wall.

..and my shoulder

Then, with towel on, she shakes on my lap as her sobs slowly subside.

The looks of reproof are thrown my way for several minutes as I squeeze her tight to me and try to convince her we're done.

Being stripped of her true love is really an ordeal, for sure.

Gone are the saucy hairs she'd so carefully touseled.  No remnants of her lovely meal remain. 

Before you ask, we've tried baths alone, baths with her sister, baths with me, showers with her sister, sink baths, showers with me.....we're running out of options that include water.

If she doesn't outgrow this bath terror, I'm half-convinced she's going to break a bone just to get sponge baths.

Because of her water intolerance, a lot of the time, she might be sporting a little smudge here or there...because there's only so many times/days a week I can torture the poor child.

We do the baby wipe wipedown after most meals.  Which is not quite as thorough as the bath.....but less psychologically scarring, so, after most meals, she usually shares a crumb or two with those around her.

Although I do on occasion make beautiful meals and treats, in reality, this is what food looks like in our lives - deeply loved and hard to part with for one little girl who waited a long time to be full - and isn't going to be easily parted from her food.

All those pictures and words to bring you to *the* picture, le piece de resistance.....the best seat in the house and our food for blog today :)

Where the magic happens