What They Call A "Nut Job"

Making baby food from scratch is the topic of the day...and is also probably going to be the reason I'll be hitting the mental institution a little earlier than expected (it was inevitable, right?).

Now that Finn is a 100% formula boy now (read: he's no longer on the "boob juice") I decided that, to ease my transition out of "food provider", I would be super Martha Stewart-y and commit some fraud-based crime...just kidding! I actually decided that I'd start cooking Finn's food instead of buying the pre-made stuff.

Cooking for me and Luke? No biggie. I don't think Luke would bat an eyelid if we had spaghetti ever day for the rest of his life (which we might, after all this stress)...but Finn? I feel like I have to provide him with every single nutrient that has ever existed lest he waste away from some sort of malnutrition while everyone casts a very dissaproving look at the person to blame (i.e. Me).

That's a lot of responsibility.

And its driving me crazy. It is just way too much pressure...I can't do it.

But I must.

I must be the responsible adult. Not the sobbing heap of a used-to-be-normal-person slumped over a pot of boiling water which contains every vegetable known to man like I have been after every attempt of this cooking business.

But today, I slumped over in victory (and exhaustion) over THREE different kinds of hopefully-edible food that Finn will most likely spit out. But victorious nonetheless.


Success!....nasty looking success!