#7. Indulge a picky eater.

Yes, this is proof of me actually picking the berries out of Noah’s Special K. (For the record, he did eat three bowlfuls in one sitting.)

I finally drew the line at straining the “chunks” out of his yogurt. Now I only buy the non-chunky kind.

But I still cut the crusts off his sandwich.

If he turns into a grown adult who only eats crustless cheese sandwiches and yogurt with Diego cartoons on the containers…

I blame only myself.

#6. Stand idly by (holding a camera, no less) while my son demonstrates unlawful crib evacuation procedures.

Since Noah has recently taken it upon himself to exit his crib — and room — upon waking up, without waiting for me, might I add, I decided I needed to witness just how he was accomplishing this acrobatic feat. Observe the following video, where he instructs me to “Watch your Noah” as he begins his climb. Apparently the toy box is key to the operation.

It’s a sad day when you can no longer keep your child in a cozy wooden CAGE.

#4. Get six weeks behind in my coupon-cutting. (A penny saved on toilet paper is a penny earned. Not flushed down the toilet, one could say.)

#5. Let Noah be the one to help me organize them.


As you can see, he really gets into it.

“Gee, Mommy — who made such a mess?”

After this experience, I am starting to rethink the slogan, “Thank goodness for Chef Boyardee.”

But then again, I did grab the camera before I grabbed the washcloth, so you have to give the Chef props for entertainment value.

Is it me, or does Noah look particularly pleased with himself?

Ah yes, yet another display of my pre-Noah naiveté in assuming his toy selection would be strictly limited to trucks, army men, and Thomas the Tank Engine, who has recently been upgraded to rock star status in our household. (Noah insisted I read the same “choo-choo” book three times in succession this morning, and Sir Topham Hatt is starting to haunt my dreams.)

This is, of course, until yesterday, when a girlfriend of mine uncovered this little pink stroller on our shopping expedition at Goodwill. Though she purchased it for her girls, it became readily apparent as the morning wore on that Noah had commandeered the vehicle for his own personal use.

And so, having accepted my friend’s generous gift of this pink and lavender treasure, I am now learning to accept my son’s infatuation with his, err, dolly stroller. Pete, on the other hand, is showing significantly less enthusiasm for Noah’s new toy.

So if you see it in our yard, painted black with flame decals on the side, you’ll know who’s responsible.

Okay, so the Yoo-Hoo was a total impulse buy the other week. I am a sucker for “Buy 1, Get 1″ sales, especially when they’re accompanied by a coupon (how could I resist?). But now I have 20 boxes of Yoo-Hoo chilling in my fridge (actually, we’re down to 17). And they are good. I mean good, as only liquid chocolate in a bendy-straw box can be.

I did not, however, buy Yoo-Hoo with the intention of feeding it to my toddler. I mean really, what kid needs 18g of sugar coursing through his brand new digestive tract? It’ not organic! It’s not natural! Yes, it does have 7 vitamins and minerals, including 25% recommended daily allowances of Calcium and Vitamin D (in case you were wondering), but still. (Oh, and did I mention Riboflavin? Gotta love that daily serving of Riboflavin. Bring on the Riboflavin! I always say.)

Which brings me to Entry #1 in an ongoing series entitled: “Things I Swore I’d Never Do as a Mother.” Let’s call this: “The Yoo-Hoo Factor.” With chagrin, I present to you photographic evidence of my downward spiral into a nutritional wasteland of high fructose corn syrup and guar gum (whatever that is, so long as it contains Riboflavin):

Oh yeah—that’s good stuff. (Note the nutritional info right on the box.) But look, have you ever seen such an adorable illustration of pure, focused delight, as only a bendy straw can deliver?

And yes, he even let me share. These huggle-snuggle moments make it all worthwhile.

So lock me up, report me, let the Organic Police tap my phones and stake out my fridge. Would you be able to resist this face?