January 26, 2011 · 7:44 pm

Tenth Time’s The Charm?

I don’t like yogurt. I LOVE cheese and milk and ice cream and cream cheese, and I even think sour cream is okay. But yogurt, to me, tastes and smells like something that has gone far past the expiration date. For the record, I feel this way about cottage cheese, too, but I’m going to keep the focus on yogurt for the sake of this blog entry. Bottom line: I like a lot of healthy foods, but I don’t like yogurt. Yuck. Blech.

However, as I continue my journey toward a greener, healthier lifestyle (and toward losing the five pounds that perpetually hover in my mid-section), I’ve decided that yogurt, Greek yogurt to be exact, should be a part of my food repertoire. The benefits are amazing. It has tons of protein, it’s low in sodium and carbohydrates and it’s easier to digest, which is good for me because you all know I have digestive difficulties. It’s also good for bone health, boosts the immune system and could very well fight off cancer. It’s a crazy super food, and I’ve decided I need to eat it.

But I hate the taste.

I’ve heard it takes ten tries to like a food. For the sake of challenging myself and being a good example for Dylan who won’t try anything new (and who, ironically, loves yogurt), I’ve decided to eat Greek yogurt every day for ten days. For obvious reasons, the flavor I’ve chosen to start with is chocolate. For anyone who cares to know further, the brand I’ve chosen is Stonyfield Oikos Organic Greek Nonfat Yogurt.

I’m on day two of this ridiculous challenge, and I’m writing this blog in between taking tiny, unpleasant bites of the sour stuff. Even the chocolate hasn’t won me over yet, but I’m keeping at it and will try to include Dylan in the game. This is wishful thinking, I’m sure. Last night, when Dylan refused to eat anything for dinner, I asked him if he wanted to have chocolate yogurt. He said, “Chocolate? Yogurt?” and laughed. Then he said, “Mommy, “M&Ms have chocolate and yogurt. Can I have that for dinner?” After some heated debate, we settled on cream cheese on whole grain crackers and an apple & strawberry fruit squeezer.

I’m hoping to make some progress tomorrow. (I’m talking about Dylan and me.) I’ll keep you posted.

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January 22, 2011 · 1:27 pm

“B” Words

I often write about Dylan. He’s older. He’s had more experiences. He speaks! But I think it’s time to give Riley some attention. He’s really coming into his own. He’s becoming opinionated about everything. He loves reading books and watching Chuggington, and he hates having his hair combed after a bath. His personality is getting bigger. He’s as sweet as ever, but he’s also stubborn, funny and has a flair for drama. His new thing is to throw himself on the floor and then look up at us and groan like he’s been hurt, but the whole thing is a show. And this one I write with great relief: He’s talking. Words are flying out of his mouth. Up, down, more, no (his favorite!), hello, waffle, bus, bubble, boat, baby, bath, backpack. Lots of “B” words. Listening to him talk is “B” for beautiful!

Riley and Dylan are so different. I think most parents think they’re responsible their child’s personality and temperament…until they have a second one and realize they had nothing to do with it. I definitely thought I was responsible for Dylan’s timidity. I thought I must have said “be careful” and “that’s yucky” too many times. Then came adventurous Riley and my theory was blown to bits. Where Dylan is timid, Riley is bold. Where Dylan is careful, Riley is fearless. He’s already had two more black eyes than Dylan, and Dylan has had NONE!

I predicted Riley would walk early, write on walls with crayons and throw inappropriate things in toilets. I’ve been accurate on all counts so far, and he’s even surpassed my expectations. A few weeks ago he drew all over Mike’s computer screen with a mechanical pencil! He’d rather climb on the kitchen counter and play with knives and prescription pill bottles than play with toys. He climbs rock walls at playgrounds that Dylan won’t even attempt. When he moves from the crib to a bed, I predict he’ll be the kind of kid who gets up all hours of the night to explore the dark house. Dylan, at four-years-old, still calls out to us when he wakes up in the morning as if his bed were a crib.

This week, I’ve realized more than ever before that despite Dylan and Riley’s vast personality differences, they are both boys in every sense of the word. Before my very eyes, Dylan’s round, soft body has become thin and strong. Even with his careful nature, his instinct to throw, pounce and destroy is strong. I’ve been a broken record all week saying, ”stop,” “that’s enough,” “no“ or “that hurt!”

Riley, though, wins the prize for being the most “B” for boy. Twice in the last two days, he’s opened his soft, small fist in front of me to reveal a large, dead bug. I’ve never seen him so proud of himself. I, on the other hand, had to fight my gag reflex and run for the wipes.

I’m not a girly-girl, but I’m no tomboy, and my babies have turned into boisterous, dead bug loving boys overnight. I don’t miss the sleepless nights, but I do miss the simple, gentle creatures they once were, and I have a feeling I’m on the cusp of a few very dirty and rowdy years. I’ve been told countless times that girls get harder and boys get easier as they get older. I’m hoping there’s some truth to this theory. In the meantime, I’m searching deep within myself to channel my own inner “B” for boy to get through the next few years of budding boyhood without going “B” for bonkers.

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