Up To My Elbows


I am literally swimming in a combination of pectin, vinegar, pickling salt, and probably my body weight in various cannable and/or jammable vegetables. On the plus side, my sister and I are almost done and have come up with some pretty cool combos….

 

Like… Vanilla Bourbon Peach. A little saucy because of the bourbon, but amazing on Vanilla Ice Cream. And there is nothing like an excuse for a little whiskey in the middle of the day. Just don’t share your sandwich. (It’s “Adult” jam)

 

Or perhaps Spiced Peachberry Jelly is more your flavor. No? Maybe Pineapple Jalapeno, then. Not hot enough? Try version 3 (yes 3) with Pineapple and Super Chilies. Pineapple not your thing? Go for broke with Gelatinous Capsicum Annum (more commonly known as Red Pepper Jelly). And, if all else fails, you can go with Berry Cubed.

 

Despite the endless options previously mentioned in a slightly sarcastic manner, I’m having a lot of fun. Both kiddos really love jam, and I feel so much better feeding them jam that I’ve made. Even better, both kids have been willing to try all the veggies that we’ve been preparing! That being said, self-preserved food has done nothing for table manners or table tantrums. Biggest is doing well at eating by himself, and has for a while, however, his latest endeavour is to steal Littlest’s food. Littlest’s just gotten into the “pass it back and forth” game, but he’s not quite old enough to realize that when Biggest plays it, he plays for the “forth” and not the “back”. Ergo a lot of missing food and one upset Littlest. However, Littlest is now big enough to realize the comfort that he’s had when eating. Perhaps it was because I was under the impression that he wasn’t eating enough, and put learning how to eat by the wayside in favor of shoving-til-you-can’t-eat-anymore-and-who-cares-how-it-gets-in-there method. And while we’ve gotten a mostly all-clear from his pediatrician (Yay for being just a slow grower!), Littlest is still content with using his hands like a caveman or getting fed. Only… it’s disgusting.

 

And so, I’m now endeavouring to teach him how to use a spoon and drink from a straw. Please note: It is very difficult to convince Littlest that a spoon not held by me is not going to kill him. He honestly gets it in his grip and starts screaming like a banshee. As for the whole straw thing, he won’t even take a sippy cup because he’s so attached to the original weaning cup that we got him. I find it an excellent reminder once again not to judge parents by their children, because I swore I wouldn’t have a toddler who threw stuff on the floor, made a huge disaster, and had a tantrum every time they reached the dinner table.

 

But guess what? That is totally happening. And I’m going to borrow a cliche and say that it’s one of those “phases”, and he’ll “grow out of it”. Because in the end, I know for a fact (thanks to Biggest) that it usually happens that way, and no matter how irritating both of those truisms are, they got to that category because they are, well.. True.

And now I must sleep, so that I can make breakfast tomorrow without toothpicks for my eyeballs, and so I can focus my attentions on attempting to have a screech/thrash/whine/wail-free meal.

 

Wish me luck. I’ll probably need it!

The Handler.

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