Confessions of a Spud Hater

I've recently made myself reacquainted with a long-lost enemy: the potato. As of now, the potato-eaters in my household outnumber the potato-haters (namely, me). So, I have decided to take the plunge and begin making potatoes for meals.

You may be asking yourself, how does a young lass born in Iowa grow up not eating potatoes? This is the million-dollar (or 3 cent) question to which no one in my family has the answer. It has become a piece of folklore with my parents who claim that upon learning how to speak, I simple said "no" whenever offered the offending root vegetable. Granted, I said "no" to about 75% of food that crossed my path until I moved to Japan in my early 20s. Then, faced with the alternative of starvation, I figured out how eat most everything. Unless you've lived and/or traveled in an Asian nation, you may not understand that universality of that statement. I drew the line at raw horse and fermented soybeans. I knew it was time to come home when I no longer was phased by eating the beady eyes of little shrimp. When I did come home with a new found appreciation for all types of cuisine, I still could not suck down a potato.

Then, I got married. I love my husband dearly. I enjoy attempting to make him decent meals on a regular basis. But, after many years of marriage, those meals have categorically never contained potatoes. I am damaged goods. He still loves me.

Now we have a young son whom all of our habits, good and bad, will be imprinted upon. I committed to Dustin to not pass on my hatred towards the potato. It started on Valentine's Day. Dustin and I had a steak dinner after Jaden had gone to bed. I tried my hand at garlic-mashed potatoes. Having no idea how to make such a concoction, I just went with what sounded sensible. I tossed a few potatoes in the oven for a long time, took out their middles when they were soft, and mashed them with cream and garlic and salt. He choked them down. I have no idea what they tasted like.

With my apprenticeship over, I have moved on to my next (and more vulnerable) subject. Yesterday I baked both regular and sweet potatoes for Jaden. They are now stored safely in my refrigerator, and will soon be in his belly. I will serve them to him with the same gusto as I do bananas and other less tragic foods.

I fully understand that soon enough I will start putting potatoes on my plate to set a good example. If I'm going to torment my child with my own psychosis I really want it to be over something slightly more serious than potatoes.

No one told me parenting required such sacrifice.

Disclaimer: French fries (thin ones, like McDonald's style), and potato chips do not count as potatoes. I think we can all agree that once any substance is fried enough it tastes delicious.

Addendum: After my mom read this post she made sure to tell me that I had cooked the pictured potatoes within an inch of their lives. She wondered if anything edible had been left. I guess I still have some work to do. *sigh*

First Swim

First, there was fear.Then, trepidation. Bravery reared its head.And, finally, the pool was conquered.

Love

Sleep

This is it. The only picture I have over the past two months of Jaden sleeping. It was taken on the plane ride home. That was almost two months ago. I want more. There is nothing that pulls on my heart more than seeing him with his butt up in the air, his thumb in his mouth, in the glorious state of sleep. But, I'm scared. It isn't worth it. What if he...wakes up? It's not worth the risk right now. Maybe later.

I've debated whether or not to blog on the topic of sleep. It seems like most parents and non-parents seem to think "duh...that's just parenting" whenever I broach the topic. I guess I didn't get it. Those close to me know I wrestled for weeks to try and figure out how to get Jaden to sleep through the night in his crib. And then, two weeks ago, I gave up. I threw in the towel. I quit. Here was our life preceding said moment.

1. 7-8 pm Bedtime
2. Sometime between 11 and 1 First wake-up. Rock to sleep. Put back in crib.
3. 15 to 45 minutes later Next wake up. Rock to sleep. Put back in crib. Pray.
4. 5 to 30 minutes later Next wake up. Walk to sleep. Go and tell spouse how frustrated you are. Put back in crib. Pray. Eat a cookie to keep blood-sugar up during wee hours.
5. Repeat until around 5 am.
6. 7 am Wake up.

Ick. Yes, I've read the Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child which told me I'm reinforcing his crying by picking him up. We went to a doctor who specializes in international adoption who told us that we would not hurt Jaden emotionally if we let him cry-it-out as long as he knew we were still there. (She told us to wave at him from across the room. Really.) We tried that for three nights, not waving but laying next to his crib on a mattress. He certainly held up his end of the bargain by crying. Incessantly. That sucked (understatement). So, I read the No-Cry Sleep Solution which gave me a step-by-step method to get Jaden to sleep in his crib by himself with no crying. Albeit, the proposed plan would take a few months. I posted on an international adoption website looking for ideas. I spoke with my parents and sister and discussed this topic ad naseum. And then, I stopped. I no longer filled out sleep logs; I stopped obsessing about the number of hours Jaden was sleeping in a 24-hour cycle. I asked my husband if it was okay if we just gave up for a while. He, mercifully, said yes.

About an hour before I made the decision to bag it, I had a "sleep plan" ready from the Pantley book. I was going to type it up, post it on my mirror and implement it in my typical Type-A fashion. At some point I spoke with my sister and I think she asked me an intriguing question like "why?". I had an answer then. I'm not sure what it was. But after I hung up with her I started to think. "Why?" Who says this little boy who has been with us for less than two months has to make it 10-12 hours in his crib, by himself, without us there to parent him? Why does he have to know how to "sleep through the night"? (which, by the way, is only defined as something silly like 5 hours in a row so I guess by midnight he has officially slept through night.) Why shouldn't we be there to comfort him when he is scared and lonely and help him learn how to fall back asleep in a safe and loving environment?

This may seem more than obvious to many, and some of you may have checked the "neurotic" box and stopped reading this by now. But, this was a huge epiphany for me in my parenting journey. Perfection is a myth. One-size-fits-all is ridiculous. And one day, one week, one month does not a lifetime make.

So now, this is what most nights are like.

1. 7-8pm Bedtime.
2. Between 11 and 1am. First wake up. Dustin goes and sleeps with Jaden on a mattress by his crib.
3. Between 2 and 3 Ali relieves Dustin.
4. 7 am Wake-up.

That's it. Most nights there are no tears on anyone's part. Most days we all wake up rested. It feels so good. However, I still am too gun-shy to snap a photo at 2am of Dustin and Jaden cuddling together on the floor of Jaden's room. That just seems silly.

Step by step...

Meow.

Here are some things Jaden is particularly good at doing:

• eating Cheerios


• laughing hysterically around bathtime
  
• crawling
  
• napping

In respect to the last item, note that I did not say sleeping at night. No, these are two different items indeed. But he is a rock-star napper. At 9:10 am Jaden yawned and we went upstairs to take a nap. I hugged him, kissed him, kissed his blanket (much to his delight) and laid him in his crib. No tears, no drama. He was content. I listened to him babble on the baby monitor while I filled out some paperwork downstairs. After about 20 minutes I started wonder why he hadn't drifted off to sleep. His babbling was a little more consistent than usual, like he was actually talking with someone/thing. His toys? His crib? His sweatshirt? And then, I heard it. "Meow." Dear god, the cat-who-shall-not-be-named had surreptitiously entered the baby room and gotten stuck upon my exit. Undoubtedly Jaden had been beside himself with excitement watching the cat do goodness knows what around the room. This is the same cat who categorically hates children and promptly peed on the guest bedroom comforter when my nephew (age 1.5 at the time) came to visit us in California. To give him some credit, he has been fairly tolerant of Jaden. But he has never been in close confines with him either. Until today. I don't want to know what happened in those 25 minutes. But now, it is 9:45 and Jaden is asleep.