Bye, bye, Bottle Monster!

A number of you have been asking how it's going with Jesse's eating. Or lack thereof. And whether or not we have managed to hang onto our sanity from the trauma of it all! What with my propensity for sticking my head in the sand and pretending that everything's ok and all finding alternate amusement while the food is hitting the wall. Or escaping to Cape Town for a galavant with my friend while Robin attempts to food-train our kid.

My timing's always been great that way.

I was SO happy to escape! My child has been known to throw a hissy fit or two that would take a few years off of your life. And I seriously wasn't looking forward to the pillava when we would need to get Jesse to sleep without her beloved bottle!

Anyhoo, what I didn't tell you the day we took Jesse to the doc, was that when we climbed into the car outside the doctor's rooms, Robin sat Jesse down for a heart-to-heart and said something like this: "Jesse-Lolli, you are a big girl now, see. No more bottles. Only babies drink bottles. Jesse's a big girl now, so Jesse's going to eat lots and lots of yummy food, ok? Bottles are for babies and Jesse isn't a baby anymore. OK?" All the while, Jesse listented intently, nodded here and there, then proceeded to wail heart-wrenchingly for a good few minutes after the speech. As if she actually understood!

And she hasn't ONCE asked for her bottle since then! Seriously. Who is this little girl, and what has she done with the real Jesse-Lee?

She now eats as if there's an impending famine (She gets that from me!), and sleeps. RIGHT THROUGH the night! Without waking up three or eight times asking for a new bottle! No more wake-ups all night for me! Woot!

Needless to say, there's a whole lot more happiness in the Hillbilly Household. Less bananas. Less pasta. But who's counting?

Food IS LEKKER after all!

We've been trying to convince Jess that food is really lekker, for about the past fifty-two years six months.  Give or take a few days' strike in between to recoup.  It has been a battle of epic proportions, folks.  

.

Never underestimate the power of an eleven-month-old.  Or a five-month-old.  Because that's about when we started trying to feed the iron-jawed monster.  The girl has staying power, I'll give her that much.  

.

I just could NOT understand why she just REFUSED to eat.  I mean - hello!  Food!  Show me a hillbilly who can say no to some good home-cooked chow and I'll show you a dinosaur egg.  

.

I know!  Exactly.

.

And then, about a month ago we were calmly sitting in the "parents with babies" isle at church (the seats nearest the escape door) so that if she gets a bit niggledy we can just pop out the back door without, disrupting the whole service.  So, one of our friends' children (who shall remain anonymous, but for the sake of this post, let's call him Coenie) came and sat at the back with us.  With that a handful of other kids followed him and we had a bit of a party at the back.  Coenie's mom always packs him a "snack pack" for church which always includes either sliced biltong*, or dry wors*.  That particular weekend it was dried wors.  So, he shared with all the kids, handing each one about half a stick of dry wors.  And he gave Robin a piece too.  (Robin being a kid too, you know.)  Jess was sitting on the floor with all of them.  She looks at the dry wors, looks at Coenie, looks at each kid in the circle, notices that she's the ONLY one (besides her mom, but since when do moms count?) that doesn't have a stick of wors.  No problem for her - she scoots over to Coenie's tupperware and helps herself to not one, but TWO sticks of wors!!!  And so the little vegan became a carnivor in the space of one sermon!  haha.  Heretofore she had only ever experienced SOYA, nogal.  Needless to say, she LOVES dry wors.  So much so that we've had to buy her her own private stash!!!   This week has seen her make HUGE progress in the eating department. It's still sporadic, with the occasional temper tantrum (Lord have mercy!) and hissy fit at the sight of a spoon, but we give her sliced apple, whole banana, marie bisuits, boiled egg, DRY WORS!, slices of cheese and pretty much anything that she can feed herself.  If it comes on a spoon, not interested.  If she can snatch it out of your hand, WINNER!  

.

Just the other day I was sitting on my father-in-law's lazyboy in their lounge with Jess on my lap.  I absentmindedly opened a marshmallow easter egg and took a nibble of it.  Next minute, boy oh boy, Jess snatched it RIGHT OUT OF MY HANDS and stuffed it into her mouth!  Needless to say, I snatched it right back (because I'm grown-up that way!), ran into the kitchen, split a banana and pretended to be eating that.  She quickly helped herself to "my" banana and appeared quite happy for the swap.  hehe.  

.

My new nickname is Speedy Conzales.

.

And so, the battle to feed the banana booger continues.  I'm pleased to report, though, that as long as she can feed herself now, she will pretty much try it.  Which I would call a victory.  And as long as I don't need to keep eating Jess's leftovers, it might be a slim victory too!

---

*biltong = South African for something like beef jerkey, which can be made from almost any meat

*dry wors = dried out, raw, salty sausage.  Also a South African favourite

---

The new regime

... so after my nice long rant yesterday, my hubby and I decided to take the plunge and dive head first into our New Year's exercise routine. On the fourteenth of the month. Better late than never, I always say.

.

A bunch of church friends were already swimming their four hundred and twentieth length, when I donned my costume and stood at the poolside clutching my towel, wishing I could come up with a valid excuse to get out of swimming contemplating this enormous step I was taking. It was when I spied a ten-ton-tessy swimming in the end lane that I decided enough was enough. I dropped my towel on the spot and eased into the water before anyone could notice my spongy thighs and un-waxed nether-regions. If you know what I mean.

.

I was rather proud of myself after doggy-paddling through six lengths. And that, on an empty stomach too. PLUS, I even did the breast stroke for half a length here and there. It's like the hardest swimming stroke to do. Especially if you have an aversion to frogs and every time you do the sprawl you picture frogs' legs... Now that's what I call super serious about getting in shape, ya'll.

.

I worked up quite an appetite. So as hubby and I were pulling out of the parking lot at the school I said, "So, how does some KFC sound as a reward for swimming?" Now, now, before you all start sniggering at my dedication and self-discipline, the power was still out. And how could I cook if there was no electricity?

.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.

.

So, we stopped at KFC. If it's any consolation, I went with the healthier option. One Smokey Cheese Wrap, thank you very much. It came with chips and a can of cooldrink. What was I supposed to do? Throw the chips away?

.

Over my dead body.

.

Waste not, want not.

.

But, I elected to have a TAB instead of a Coca Cola. Muuuuuuch healthier. And less fattening. And sugar free. And caffeine free. Clearly the better option for my new lifestyle. I even told the lady behind the counter that I would rather have the Tab because I'm trying to lose weight.

.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

.

She immediately burst into a spasm of raucous laughter. "What? You? Lose weight? In your dreams!"

.

Who could blame me for having the coca cola after that?

Weighty Matters

I was doing quite well since my decision to diet, actually, until I arrived at work this morning and found that the menu for breakfast was that all-american-favourite (and this South African's too!): crumpets! Crumpets, people! Oh, wait, don't you Americano's call it flap-jacks? Or pancakes? Not sure, but I remember we ate it for breakfast when we were holidaying there in 2004. Now you all know that I have oh-so-much self-discipline. Snigger snigger! So, obviously I walked right on by without giving the crumpets so much as a passing glance...

.

Yeah right. I mean, LOOK at them!

.
Blasted weakling that I am, I had three. Then went looking for more. Thank goodness for me, the scoffers kids attending the Bush Camp were hungrier than I was, and had finished them off while I was drizzling mine with honey golden syrup.

.

Why does the best food have to be the most fatteningestest? Like, say, for example, lasagne. Or chocolate. Or coffee. Now, I still vehemently deny that coffee is fattening, but the proof is in the pudding. So to speak.

.

I'm really struggling to diet. Maybe it's extra hard because I never had to diet before fertility treatments. And middle age. Oh, and crumpets. So, in the interest of dodging calories, I've compiled a NOT To Do While I'm Dieting List:-

1. Walk past crumpets.
2. Meander through bakeries.
3. Watch late-night movies while the kitchen is unlocked.
4. Skip breakfast
5. Find out somebody is going into town and send money with them for coffee. And muffins.
6. Forget to get my exercise video put onto dvd.
7. Twice.
8. By accident.
9. Steal the Feta out of the salad (I'm so NOT a feta girl, but hey, cheese is cheese, after all).
10. Listen to Mika's "Big Girl, You are Beautiful" song. OK, maybe just one last time. For good riddance, and all of that.

What's cookin'?

I remember when Robin and I were first married. Our meals left a whole lot (of take out) to be desired. I was one of those silly emancipated women in my teens. Emancipated from what? Heaven only knows! But I considered myself one. Maybe I liked the sound of it. Yes. That's probably it. You know the type. The outspoken girl who says "I refuse to be the kind of woman whose husband expects her to wait on him, hand and foot." (Little did I realize that when you fall in love with someone, you want to wait on them, hand and foot. And if you're lucky enough to have married a man like I did - then he wants to do the same for you too! But that's a whole other story.)

.

Back to the cooking part. Or lack of it.

.

Well, being emancipated and all, I just plain refused to learn to cook. Maybe refuse is too strong a word. Let's put it this way - whenever it came time to cook, I was hiding in my bedroom studying. Or practising piano. Or anything else that would get me out of the kitchen, for that matter. Robin knew this. Well, he knew it in theory. Poor guy! I wonder if he had a clue what he had gotten himself in for when he married me?

.

Anyway, imagine his horror when we arrived home from honeymoon and it was time for dinner. And I sat glued to my spot on the couch pretending that my stomach growling was background noise on the tv! Imagine his further horror when I said I didn't even know how to cook a bowl of rice! I had to phone my mom and ask her to speak me through it. Literally. "Hi Mommy! Yes, we're fine thanks. Ja, um, I'm um, well, kind of cooking. No, I'm being serious. Really. I'm cooking. OK, I'm trying to cook." ... pause while she cackles in the background... "Mom? Yoo hoo? Mooooommmm?" ... hang on while she tells my dad I'm cooking, and he too erupts into guffaws in the background... "Mom! I need your help. What am I making? I was thinking of making rice. No, I don't know what with. Right now, I'm just making rice." ... pause while she tells dad I'm only making rice for supper. Both of them split a hernia again as they erupt into laughter. Again. ..."OK Mommy, I'm going now."

.

Nah, it wasn't actually so bad. Really. And she actually did help me figure out how to boil some rice. And she didn't really laugh at my expense. Heaven knows, if it had been me on the receiving end of the telephone call, I'd have been lying flat on my back, immobile with the laughter! But my mom isn't like me. She's kind and thoughtful. And careful not to offend.

.

Needless to say, I'm not a big fan of rice. Or cooking. Actually, I really dislike cooking. Well, more the standing in the kitchen part, while everyone else is lazing around in the lounge. That's the part that does me in. Truth be told, I just don't like feeling left out. Which is why most of the meals I make now (and yes, I actually DO cook now.. Mmm, more now and then...) are quick and easy. Make that VERY quick and VERY easy.

.

I have a friend who is the most organized person I know. And she's a dang good cook too. And she's really pretty. And she's having her second little one on Tuesday next week! (Hello, Hanlie!) And... anyway, she once mentioned to me that she works out a menu plan for the month, then buys her groceries accordingly. And then when it's time to cook every day, she doesn't have to wonder what to prepare. I thought that was mighty clever. And it seems to work for her. As for me - I'm one of those people who starts thinking about food preparation pretty much around the same time as my tummy starts grumbling. Which makes for very rushed preparation. With very few ingredients, what with all the nibbling of them that takes place during preparation. How about you guys?

So, when it's dinner time, what do you prepare?

	Toasted Cheese
	A full five-course meal, thank you very much!
	Cook? Me? Never!
	I only do desserts
	I'm a great cook! You name it - I make it!
	Whatever's easiest / quickest / whatever we have ingredients for
	We have a meal plan, and I stick to it
	My partner is the cook.

skip to results

Created on Quibblo.com
find more or create your own

---

By the way, we decided not to go ahead with any cataract surgery for little Buttercup. They can fix her eyes. But it would cost just a little more than ten thousand bucks (that's about $1400 U.S.) to do it, and it would mean six weeks of eyedrops six times a day... and her body could still reject the new lenses. So, it just doesn't seem worth it for us, if she doesn't even know any better anyhow. I must admit I'm really relieved about it too - I couldn't imagine having to be the one "torturing" her everyday to get her to sit still while I put in the eyedrops. Maybe it's a cop out. Either way, I'm happy with our decision.

I feel good!

I can't explain it any other way than peace. I'm really at peace with our decision to adopt. It's like there's suddenly this knowledge that it's all going to work out right.

.

Usually I have to try really hard not to be one of those people who base decisions on feelings. See, things don't normally need to make sense to me, in order for me to do something. It just has to feel right. Well, my stint in infertility has forced me to be more careful. I've had to watch watch watch... Watch everything that I eat - no more emotional eating. I've had to watch everything I drink - no more cappuccino's all day every day. I've had to watch my spending - fertility treatments steal all your bucks - so no more shopping sprees. Watch watch watch. Be careful.

.

And now that we're adopting, suddenly I feel less frivolous. I'm going to be a mom sometime soon (hopefully!) and that means I have to be more responsible now. Less doing as I please. More planning. More patience. More parent-style behaviour.

.

And it feels BRILLIANT! Finally, something in this JTBP (journey to becoming parents) feels right! Maybe I'm cut out for this, after all. Who'd have thunk it?

.

.

P.S. Thanks for all the great ideas for celebrating my birthday, guys. Please forgive me if you get sprayed with the sarcasm dripping from that statement. Just kidding. I guess, I'm the only one that's really that excited about it being my birthday soon. Granted, even I don't jump with joy when a birthday is looming. Love the presents, of course. Growing to dislike all the fuss though. When did the sparkles die on my birthdays? I must be getting old.

Smooth moves

What a fantastic new day! haha. OK, so I'm a bit rickety. One day up. One day down. Sorry about yesterday, by the way. I had the blues. I even contemplated changing my blog's whole look to grey n dingy. Thank goodness, I didn't have time to fiddle.

.

Happy Char's back. Be gone, awful blues!

.

Some good news. For those of you who have been waiting to hear how my friend Ashleigh in Brisbane is doing, she's doing really well. Noah is home with the family now, and is the cutest little thing. Here are some pics. Ash, you are going to be such a fun, funky mom. I wish I could be there to enjoy this life-changing time with you.

.

Speaking about life changes. Robin and I have been on a bit of a life change ourselves. So, you know we lurrrrrrve our dairy and the occassional braai (that's BBQ in American and Australian), not to mention my passion for my beloved's*. Well, having listened to Prof. Walter Veith's seminars for the past (almost) two weeks, we decided to ship up and shape up and drop the rubbish from our diet... and that (boo hoo!) happens to include the dairy and meat and (sob!) my beloved's*. Prof. Veith told me that Harvard Medical School has released a study showing a distinct link between the consumption of dairy and infertility. So, guess who's no longer consuming any dairy? Yes, we're predictable! haha. Well, it's been smoothies for supper almost every night since then. Anyone have any good "vegan" smoothie recipes? Here's a really yummy one. We're finding out what tastes good by trial and error... So anyway, back to the recipe:

Ingredients:

1 cup soya milk (already mixed)

2 bananas

1 apple

1 pear

half a cup raw oats

half a cup mixed nuts

1 tablespoon peanut butter

a squeeze of honey (optional)

So much of yummy that is! We literally just put whatever fruit we have in there. This morning we added carob powder to the mix and it tastes really chocolatey then. Of course you could skip the milk and nuts, and just add a splash of fruit juice and Bob's your uncle.

.

I tell you what, eating such a lot of "whole foods" makes for an interesting ... mmmm.... how can I put this? Bathroom experience! haha. Anyway, before this blog degenerates into a exposé of long-drop proportions, I shall love you and leave you.

.

Smoothie anyone?

Beans beans beans

... that's about all we have now in our grocery cupboard. Oh, and soya. Beans and soya. ew! ...Yum. Oh wait, soya are beans, aren't they? Well there you go then.

.

See, we are determined to give this healthy lifestyle thingy-me-bob a really good bash. So, here I sit at my desk with oh-so-exciting recipe book that dates back to Noah's ark, or somewhere in that era, and I'm reading recipes on how to make things like Easy Bean Soup, Creamy Bean Soup, Hearty Bean and Veg Soup... honestly! How many soup suppers can you have in a week? Oh wait! There's more in this book than just soup. There's also Bean Salad, Butter Beans, Bean Casserole, Deep Pan Bean Pizza... Bean Pizza?

.

Clearly I'm v excited.

.

I can see this turning into a somewhat smelly aromatic lifestyle change. Spare a thought for me tonight when you're eating your lasagne, would you?