Every once in awhile, I'm reminded of the fact that nothing is really mine anymore.
So it's like this...my son is two and a horrible eater. If it doesn't come in a package or if it isn't pizza, he'll act as if we're poisoning him until he either receives what he actually wants or is sent to bed without dinner. It's been this way for a little over a year now, and it's only gotten slightly better.
My husband and I have tried numerous different ways to get him to eat, from trying to force him to trying to trick him, and we're now officially in the "Shrug it Off Because at Least He's Alive" stage. We give him different foods when we can, and he'll either try it and we'll do a tiny dance of victory, or he'll throw it on the ground repeatedly and demand another episode of Bubble Guppies. Sometimes he'll change his mind about a new food. Sometimes he'll do it twice in the same night. It's like a game of Russian Roulette but instead of bullets it's green beans and you kinda want to die.
But I digress.
So one night, my husband proposes Breakfast for Dinner, because we are adults who like pancakes at 5 PM. I honestly don't even know why he bothered to ask me like I'd ever say no to Brinner, but I suppose he's done crazier things. Among the goodies covering our table is a plate heaped with delicious, cooked-to-perfection bacon.
My mouth is watering as I grab a few pieces. My son is sitting in his high chair eating blueberries kind of eyeing my movements.
"Maybe we should let him try some bacon?" Husband asks.
I immediately clutched my food to my chest and stared, scandalized. Firstly, if one of us would have to share it would (of course) be me, because he had been smart enough to cover his with guacamole and salsa and the like before suggesting it, and secondly...I mean secondly i wanted my salty breakfast meat. What if Kid just threw it on the floor?
I realize that both my husband and my son are staring expectantly, so I reach over and drop a half a piece of bacon on Kid's tray. He picks it up and bites into it. Chews.
Then he smiles and goes "Mmm." He actually likes something new! And he's so happy about it that he's actually smiling. It's adorable. Dammit.
We come to forks in the road in life where we need to make the hard decisions. We can either take the high road or the low road. The easy way or the hard way. We can be the satisfied woman with a belly full of bacon or we could be the frigid witch who denied a treat to a finicky toddler.
Guess which I chose?
THE WRONG ONE, that's which. Because I gave Kid the rest of my bacon.
Would you like to guess what he did with it? I'll tell you. Basically, he sensed that I was reluctantly parting with a rare treat, so he waved one small piece in my face and chanted "bacon, bacon, bacon" until I felt I might go mad. He then pushed the rest of it toward me, but cried uncontrollably every time I so much as looked like I might pick some up.
And he ate it all slowly. Over a 15 minute period. And made me watch.
Look, I'd like to say I was a good, loving mother in this situation. I put my son's appetite and ever-expanding horizons above my own selfish needs, and I was rewarded for it by watching him enjoy a new food. I'd like to say that this was enough for me and that I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
But really? I glared at the back of his head when he was put to bed, and now, whenever we have bacon, I duck behind a counter and eat three pieces by myself before I let him see me.
After all, like bacon, my love is to be shared, not devoured mercilessly. Gotta save a little for myself.
At least that's the story I'm sticking with. I no longer require sleep or bathroom breaks with the door closed. Let me have my breakfast meats.
Til next time. Love, peace, and bacon grease.
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