I decided that I would be amazing at this and therefore requested a Magic Bullet for Christmas, which I received. I fancied myself, a svelte 140 lbs (yeah right), dancing around my immaculate kitchen in pearls and an apron from Pier One, steaming organic vegetables before blending them and freezing them in ice cube trays, to then defrost for my precious treasure who would sit with her mouth open like a little bird and devour every morsel of my hard work.
Avery certainly called my bullshit on that one.
It all started at the grocery store. I spent a pretty serious amount of time perusing the produce section for the perfect organic baby carrots. I decided this would be my child's first food. How exciting, I thought, she is going to love how sweet these are. I hurried home and went through the process of cutting and steaming, because steaming is obviously better than boiling, obviously.
I Magic-Bulleted the shit out of those little sticks of organic goodness, and what was Miss Priss' reaction? See for yourself...
(please ignore the state in the back of my kitchen, on top of having a baby, we also decided to finish the basement. CRAZY!)
Weaning was obviously going to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated.
Avery proceeded to gag dramatically at every morsel I put past her sweet little lips. She would throw her head back in anguish, silently urging, and then bite her six little teeth down so that it was impossible for me to stuff another baby spoonful into her tiny, picky mouth. You wouldn't know but I had pureed Nixon's wild bison flavored kibble down to mush and presented it to her.
No need to watch the Oscars this year, ladies and gentlemen. Avery is going to win every one.
Finally, I broke. After days of attempting to force feed Avery before breaking down and giving her rice cereal mixed with breast milk , while at the grocery store one day, I did the unthinkable. I bought not one, but two jars of baby food.
I know. Shoot me. But it was organic at least.
And that little bugger ate every bit. She ate it like it was pureed gold on a silver spoon. And not only did she eat it all, but she loudly smacked her lips and made satisfied "Mmmm" noises throughout the whole meal.
Alright, Avery! I get it! Mom is a shitty cook! God! You don't have to rub it in!
For a couple of days, I felt like somewhat of a failure. I felt similar to how I think I would have felt if I was unable to breastfeed. I wanted to make her food for her. I wanted to know what it was and where it came from. I wanted her to eat what I had made out of love.
To my surprise, here I am a couple of weeks later and my child is still alive and thriving. I have been mixing her organic baby food with the food that I make her so that she can get a little of column A, and a little of column B. Bought baby food is much smoother than what I can make for her and I think it's a textural thing.
I'm happy to report that the only one gagging and urging dramatically these days is Brad when he changes Avery's poopy diapers. Let me just say, baby food poop is a whole other animal in comparison to breast milk poop. The only upside though is that it's no longer explosive and therefore her ass doesn't erupt out of her diaper anymore. WINNING!!!!