Do As I Say, Not As I Eat

A couple of months ago, Bubba couldn’t even hold a sippy cup — his preferred imbibing style was bottle or, on occasion, birdfeeder:

Now, he won’t even let me hold the spoon when it’s time to eat:

I know it’s cliche, but…he’s growing up so fast! I realized this weekend that we’ve only got a few more months of bottle-feeding left, and then he’ll be like…a real person.

A person whose nutrition I am going to be in charge of.

Formula is expensive and having to deal with washing and making bottle after bottle after bottle is goddamn annoying, but at least I know it’s healthy. I don’t have to put any thought into how much fiber he’s getting or if he’s being harmed by some bizarre food coloring additive. I don’t have to wrack my brain trying to come up with delicious and nutritious recipes or argue with him over eating vegetables.

But that day is coming, folks. And I am not looking forward to it.

My biggest concern actually isn’t figuring out what to feed him or making the meals — we’ve got a Trader Joe’s and I know how to get around a kitchen. What I’m really worried about is how I’m going to convince him that Mommy doesn’t need to eat those disgusting, foul vegetables and he does. Or that it’s perfectly reasonable for Mommy to make a special journey through Jack in the Box for a monstrous Dr. Pepper but children aren’t allowed nary a sip of soda.

Because I totally plan to be a Hypocrite of Epic Proportion.

Look, I’m no dummy: I know vegetables are important and there’s fiber and vitamins and Popeye eats them and blah blah blah. And I know soda is filled with chemicals and/or sugar and is probably dissolving my stomach/veins/liver/brain/heart/whatever literally as we speak. But vegetables are gross and soda is delicious and I don’t see myself changing my mind on those opinions (facts) any time soon. I do not see myself ever uttering the words “boy, these baby carrots sure do make a nice afternoon snack!”, nor can I envision myself eating lunch with nothing but a cup of water for hydration.

But I also know that I want Bubba to be healthier than I. He WILL eat vegetables. I will put them in our dinner even if I have to pick them off my own plate. I will not accept “ewwwww, tomatoes are yucky!” as an answer (even though he’ll be 100% correct). And I don’t want him drinking ANY soda until he’s at least 19 years old. Or even juice, really. Totally unnecessary sugar!

I can barely even type that without laughing at the hypocrisy. How am I going to pull this off??? Maybe he just won’t notice me picking peppers and onions out of a casserole or will never ask me if he can have one of my sodas. That’s possible, right? It’s not like children want to copy their parents ever or anything.

At least we can ALL agree that French Fries are, in fact, a vegetable:

They count for Mama, anyway.

PS: I realize now that this makes me sound like a fat, unhealthy, slob. I’m not that bad, though, I swear. In addition to soda, I drink a copious amounts of water, and I recently (very begrudgingly) allowed TFW to start buying whole grain bread instead of sourdough or white. See? Paragon of health!