I'm Full

When I was pregnant with my daughter in 2014, of course I thought about how my life would change. What would it be like to be at home instead of at work or looking for a job for the first time in my adult life? How would I spend all that inevitable free time? Exactly how long should my list of #supermom #goals be? I envisioned that this blog would organically transform into a mom-life musing and tip-sharing forum of brilliant homemade baby gourmet and fun photo shoots I would sneak in while my little person napped soundly for hours on end. 

I’ll pause while we all wipe our tears of laughter at my wishful naivety.  

For the record, we did make a lot of our own baby food and I did quickly photograph exactly ONE such brilliant baby puree, capturing it’s glorious green swirl with mommy pride. 

Puree of apple, spinach and...

I can’t remember now what it was... but I can guarantee she loved it. This girl is definitely our child. She has eaten everything that’s crossed her path since she first started on solids. We skipped baby rice because of the arsenic concerns, and did only oats and ancient grains, swirled with various fruits and sprinkled with spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg. We made purees of fruits with orange and green vegetables to make sure she got all her vitamins. Apples and pears can make almost anything taste good! I continued drinking the smoothies my husband made me every single morning of my pregnancy until I finished breastfeeding, and started sharing them with her – plain yogurt, frozen berries, bananas, peanut butter, coconut oil, fish oil, and vitamin D drops. I once described them to my mother-in-law, glowing with gratitude at the good care her son took of me, and her response was “Ew.” I promise they’re way more delicious than they sound. And sometimes they had chocolate chips.

I credit four things for Lena’s food love: a varied pregnancy diet of world cuisine complete with all the traditional spices; our mostly whole food and zero fast food philosophy; a chef for a father; and either good genes or luck. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. I hear stories of children who won’t eat vegetables or try anything new, whereas two of my daughter’s first words were "brocci" and salmon. If you give her chicken fingers, she will pick off the fried breading and eat only the meat. Her favorite summer snacks are blueberries and raw peas out of the shell. She loves Japanese, Indian, and anything you wrap in a tortilla and call a taco, especially if it includes avocado and beans. If it's on your plate, she would like a bite, please (aka I hope you were finished with that). And, like her mama, her favorite foods are always whatever Daddy makes her. In fact, I say it was Daddy's cooking that enticed her to come into the world! 

We thought for sure she would come early but as her due date came closer, I woke up morning after morning with no baby. We started trying a different ethnicity each night to test the theory of certain foods being catalysts for labor. For my mom, it was Mexican, which is one of my favorites, so of course I tried that. The next night was Thai. I guarantee there was Italian in there. But I should've known it would be my husband's homemade Indian food that would do it. I woke up at 6am the next morning with the beginnings of labor pains.

Lena at 8 months, the day of the green puree

I never imagined how full my life would be with my daughter in it – not just full of love but completely lacking free time or the energy to fill it on the rare occasions it appears out of the tornado that is my two-year old. I never imagined I would have the world’s most active child, although the abundance of movement in the womb, in hindsight, should have been a clue. I do think we had some foresight when we made her middle name Pepper! I wish she would sleep more but given the choice between having a great sleeper and a great eater, I would choose the latter. This little girl’s boundless energy, curiosity and zest for life are (exhausting) things to be admired. I can’t wait to see how her life unfolds and who she grows to be. But I know that our time together will be earmarked by time spent in the kitchen and around the dinner table. There will never be negotiations over vegetables or threats of no dessert until she tastes what's on her plate. And as I sit reflecting and writing for the first time in two years, drinking cappuccino and eating avocado toast drizzled with honey, I’m actually full.

Small Victory (this post, AND the name of the coffee shop)