St. Valentine vs. the Easter Bunny

So, yesterday was St. Valentine's Day. My daughter made valentine bags for everyone in the household. In her head, these bags were to be filled with lucious chocolate treats, and handmade doily heart cards with sentiments of love filling the pages. Instead, I put a small handwritten note to each kid with a tiny chocolate heart. She was quite disappointed. I explained that St. Valentine's Day was to share your thoughts and sentiments with those whom you love. The gift giving is on us - not St. Valentine. He isn't like the Easter Bunny. Believe me, there were lots of chocolates to go around by the time Daddy got home. And a giant card for both little kids.

Grandma came for dinner - but DD would not touch what we ate. She had a little applesauce and her token 5 peas. She did drink 1/2 her glass of milk. Yum. I cought her sneaking candy some time later in the evening.

We were preoccupied with our sad little Molly-cat who had just had two molars extracted that day. Poor Kitty. Her little face was swollen and her eyes - glazed. She was quite an unhappy (and unstable on the little kitty paws) camper. Her twin brother, Spencer, has kidney stones. A busy day at the vet. Getting old is hell. For every living thing, evidently. They are now 80 years old in kitty years!

Meow.

Giving In

So today, I caved. Got tired of throwing food away, and made my precious little girly her favorite - skinny little chicken sticks (way overcooked so they are "crunchy"), ketchup,
and some carrot sticks and fruit.

Here's a shocker - I threw it away anyhow. She did manage to eat one chicken stick and some fruit.

Whew, now that's a meal to put hair on your chest.

Who runs my house?

My lovely young daughter refuses to eat anything that falls outside of two food groups: bread and cheese. Of course, I exaggerate....she eats gum, pop-tarts, butter, and kool-aid. You might think she would be chubby on such a diet, but no - you can easily count all her ribs from two blocks away. The pediatrician tells me she is growing just fine (gained a whole pound this year), but also told me I had to "force" her to make more healthy food choices - and thus began the loss of sanity in my household.

Two days ago, I gave her a splinter of a bite of roast beeef.
She threw up.
Yesterday, I gave her 1/4 of a teaspoon of yummy chicken soup.
She threw up.
Today, a tiny crumb of a hamburger.
She threw up.
Tomorrow I am making cheesy creamed chipped beef over mashed potatos. Guess I'll have the trashcan ready.

Ahhh, my coffee is ready, fire is burning - off to read a good book and forget the dinner hour for now. Oh, wait - she is already complaining about tomorrow's dinner!

Is it bedtime yet?