Anne of Fridays: Adventures in Eating

At Anne's 4 month check-up, our pediatrician gave us the green light to start feeding with a spoon.  So far, her diet is restricted to rice cereal and some pureed veggies.  Anne herself has not been terribly excited about these new options.

Mark, on the other hand, is pumped.  He really enjoys feeding her.

Matt and Lynne are also excited.  At some point, we told Mark that once Anne started eating food, we were going to stop making him separate dinners of chicken nuggets, pizza, or spaghetti.  Mommy, we explained, is tired of cooking him separate food, and she is certainly not going to cook THREE dinners.  Once Anne starts eating, we all eat the same thing.

Mark, of course, took this very literally.  As soon as the doctor gave Anne permission to eat, Mark started asking to try what we're eating.  Then we tapped into his competitive streak. 

"You wouldn't want Anne to be able to eat more things than you, right?"  we say.  "You wouldn't want Anne to be a better trier than you, right?"  "You'd better hurry up and try more foods--she's going to catch up!"

So far, our mind games seem to be working.

Photo Bonanza, Part 3: Spaghetti

 Trying spaghetti--and getting it all over yourself and the floor--is a normal rite of passge for kids.  Our Weird Eater didn't try it until a few weeks ago, but he loved it.  Especially the noodle slurping part.

Quotation Marks: Quote bonanza

Did we miss a few weeks? Hmmmm... how about two three quotes?

While eating watermelon: "This is amazing!"

"Toots are the stop sign of poops."
(If anyone can explain this, let us know.)

Mark: "Mr. Kevin, are you a scientist?"
Kevin: "Yes, I am a scientist."
Mark: "What do you study?"
Kevin: "I study outerspace."
Mark: "Do you ever see Buzz Lightyear when you're looking into outerspace?"
Kevin: "I don't see Buzz Lightyear because he is, in fact, a cartoon."
Mark: "Okay."

Mark of Fridays: Cupcake City

Mark loves to help make cupcakes!

Mark of Fridays: Ahoy! There be food ahead!

Yeah, the kid likes hats.

But is there ever really a wrong time to wear a captain's hat? Really?

No, there is not.

Mark of Fridays: Pizza man

For the last few months, Mark had to go to eating therapy because he was having trouble chewing up solid foods. One of the strange byproducts of the surgery he had when he was really little was it created some sort of mental block for Mark. Because he had a tube down his throat during the surgery, he rebelled against that feeling. He pretty much wouldn't consider eating anything solid. Even watermelon made him gag.

Matt thought it was crazy that and 18-month-old needed food therapy. Matt figured the kid would just grow out of it. He wasn't going to be taking baby food jars to high school, after all.

Turns out that Mark was way behind.

And, you know what? Eating therapy worked. And two weeks ago, Mark graduated from eating therapy. No certificate, but a healthy palate.

And - as shown here - Mark is now a pizza eating machine, just like his Dad.

Mark of Fridays: Struggles in Foodville

Lynne and Matt like to eat. They eat for survival. They eat because food is tasty. They come from long lines of eaters, some of whom (most notably on the Seago side) are world-renowned for the volume of food they can cook and eat in one sitting.

So it never occurred to them that Mark might not want to eat. Or that Mark - no matter how hard they tried to sneak food into his mouth when he wasn't looking - might cry and spit and gag and simply refuse to swallow.

The problems started last June, when the pediatrician told us to stop buying baby food. She said Mark could now eat whatever we were eating, just mashed up a little. The problem was that he simply refused to eat anything that didn't come out of a jar. He wouldn't eat table food that had been mashed or even pureed. He wouldn't eat - let alone touch - a Cheerio. He wouldn't put cut-up fruit in his mouth.

When we went back to the pediatrician in September, she advised us to buy a food processor, then puree our foods into liquid form. If Mark would accept that, she advised, we could then gradually make the food chunkier until he'd willingly ingest it. But he would not accept it. Not in any degree of chunkiness. We tried other foods we thought had an acceptable texture: yogurt, cottage cheese, mashed potatoes. We dropped chunks of solid food into his Gerber jars. Nothing worked.

We grew frustrated and a little desperate. In December, the pediatrician referred us to a speech therapist for an evaluation of Mark's palate and throat. She watched Mark eat (or rather, not eat) and freak out when he was presented with new foods. She concluded that Mark was a little bit behind other kids his age in the way he was (or more accurately, was not) able to move food around in his mouth. He also gagged too easily, because he didn't have much experience eating or working with solid food. Most fundamentally, though, he was afraid of food, probably as a result of having pyloric stenosis and doing lots of upchucking as an infant. All of this sounded very bad, but we were assured that the problems were fixable.

So Mark started to work with Miss Kelly the Speech Therapist in January. They pretty much play in food. They feed all of Mark's animals. They stack up food like blocks. They carry it around the room. They give it kisses. In a food therapy session, Mark's parents would think many times: are we really paying for this?

But then Mark started having discoveries. He tried banana. Then he learned to hold onto the banana - peel and all - and take big bites out of it. He ate pieces of an apple. Then we had the Great Cantaloupe Breakthrough. He was introduced to cantaloupe for the first time in the morning, had it on the tray at lunch, and by dinner he was eating it. Matt cried a little. In the days that followed, Mark willingly tried nectarine, Nilla Wafers, yogurt, and a chocolate chip cookie. The gap between when Mark sees a new food and when he's willing to put it in his mouth are narrowing. He's starting to be a true Food Explorer. Lynne and Matt couldn't be prouder.

We still have a long way to go, but it looks like Mark is becoming less afraid of his food. We think maybe part of the solution is that we let him be in control of the new foods now: he gets to hold them and decide when to put them in his mouth. We no longer try to sneak anything in there. And there's no question that the food therapy, where he has learned to play with food in a non-threatening way, has been a game-changer.

If things continue the way they're going, by summer Mark will surely be ready for a True Eater's big challenge: Grandpa Barry's Specialty Three Meat Summer Barbecue. Hooray!

Mark of Fridays: Mashed potatoes

Mark likes to eat full-body style.

(The lion was unwilling participant in this meal.)

EDITOR'S NOTE (from Matt): Those are green beans on his tray. For some reason, my mom thought they looked like poos. But we do not feed Mark poop. Actually, it's pretty gross she even thought of that!

Adventures in parenting

Lynne and Matt knew this parenting thing would be full of challenges and unexpected surprises. They just didn't know they would happen so soon.
As a few of you have heard by now, Mark was in the hospital last week. And he had a little surgery. Yeah, it kept us all awake for a while.
But, before we get any further, let's be clear: he is fine now. In fact, he's better than ever. As for his parents, well, this is just the beginning of visits to the Gray Hair Motel.
It started about three weeks ago. Mark had been wolfing down formula like they were discontinuing the stuff. Just a few weeks old, he was often eating 6 ounces in one sitting. Even the doctors were impressed.
Then he started throwing up. Not spitting up, but full-on, gagging, turning red, projectile vomiting everything in his stomach. It started as just once in a while, but within a day or two Mark was throwing up between six and 12 times a day. Lynne and Matt were doing a load of his laundry every day and using blankets as spit-up rags, just to keep up with the volume. As you can imagine from that disgusting description, it was hard on everyone.
Mark wasn't sleeping as much because he was always hungry. Lynne and Matt weren't sleeping much because they were terrified by the amounts he threw up and the ferocity that it spewed out. Lynne and Matt tried to convince themselves they were overreacting - that this was normal - but they suspected something was not right.
Of course, they took him to the doctor. Mark was still gaining weight, so the doctors weren't too concerned. They thought Mark had acid reflux, perhaps from the stress of knowing he could grow up to look like Matt. The doctors gave Lynne and Matt some cereal to add to Mark's formula and recommended a brand of bottles that would slow down how much he could eat.
It didn't make much difference. Still throwing up. Still hungry. Very little peeing and no poops. Lynne and Matt were at the end of their wits, worried about him, afraid to put him down.
So they brought him back to the doctor on Tuesday. He had lost about 12 ounces, which set off alarms. And, in case the doctors still had any questions, he puked on their table.
So, they took an ultrasound of his stomach and found that he had a relatively rare (3 in 1,000 babies) condition called pyloric stenosis. There's a pretty good diagram and definition here, but basically it means the pyloric muscle at the end of the stomach gets too big, so the food can't move to the intestine. It keeps backing up and then there's only one way out.
It happens more often in boys and more often in first born boys. No one seems to know why it happens to them, or why it happens at all.
The doctors saw all this in the ultrasound right away and told Lynne she had to take Mark to the hospital that day. The doctor said Mark would need surgery - maybe that night. Matt met them back at Edward Hospital. Of course, everyone was nervous, but they were comforted because the doctors were not panicked. They had seen this a million times before. No big deal.
So, Wednesday afternoon Mark went in for surgery. Were Lynne and Matt stressed? Of course. But if he didn't have the surgery, Mark would continue to dehydrate. And, the surgery was "routine" (a difficult word to swallow when they're prepping a 5-week-old) and lasted just 15 minutes. Plus, Lynne and Matt had watched Mark struggle for two weeks. If this could make him better, that was a good thing.
And you know what? It was a good thing. The surgery went off without a hitch. They thinned out the muscle and - presto - he's good as new. Maybe better. He has a scar no longer than a dime on his belly button. You can hardly see it now and by the time he's 1 years old, it will be virtually invisible.
In fact, the most traumatic part was watching them put the IV in Mark's head (see above picture). When he came into the hospital, Mark was too dehydrated to get an IV in his hands or feet. So they had to put it in his head. It didn't seem to bother him, but he looked like a Robot Baby.
In fact, through all of this - the IV in the head, the hospital stay, the surgery - Mark was the least upset of anyone. He responded great and was eating formula three hours after coming out of recovery. He took it all much better than his parents and grandparents. He's a tough little guy.
He's back up to 4 ounces of formula. He can sleep at night. He can lay on his stomach. He looks chubby again. He's smiling. Lynne and Matt have never been so happy to smell a poopy diaper. And he hasn't thrown up once.
It's like he went in for his 5-week tune up and now he's ready to race.
(Although the doctor's did point out that between the c-section and the pylroic stenosis, Mark is going to pretty elaborate lengths to be an only child.)
And Lynne and Matt were once again reminded how lucky they are to live in a time where this can be diagnosed and fixed within hours, reside in a country where brilliant doctors are minutes away and work at jobs with great insurance.
And once he finally got some sleep, Matt couldn't help but think about this surgery from the perspective of years later. Matt thought about Olympic coverage, when the announcers talk about some athlete who, when he was born, had some horrible malady. "The doctors told his parents he would never walk...but now he's winning the marathon!" or "His mother was devastated when surgeons told her the gills couldn't be removed...but now he's the world's greatest underwater swimmer!"
So, it's fair to assume that at the 2021 Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, you may hear an announcer saying something like...
"At just 5 weeks old, Mark could no longer digest his food. But now he has eaten 54 hot dogs in 8 minutes. A new world record!"
And Lynne and Matt will be there, cheering, every hair on their head gray as concrete.

Let them eat cake!

Single guys, listen up. If you're planning on getting married (and Matt highly recommends it), there is something you should know: Namely, you don't know anything.
You may have suspected in the past that you don't know anything. People may have even mentioned it to you. Possibly, your parents or your future spouse told you flat-out that you don't know a thing.
Still, you thought: I must know something. I'm an adult. I drive myself to work. I pick out my own ties. Surely, I know something.
Just thinking that shows how little you actually know. Matt pities you - you have so much to learn about how little you've learned.
Oh, you're the exception. You do know things? Like what? You know how many home runs Mel Ott hit? You know the other name for Interstate 290? You know how many times Marlon Brando was nominated for the Academy Award?
So. What.
Who. Cares.
You don't know a thing. You'll see.
For instance, do you know what font looks best on a wedding program? Do you know what kind of metal will be the most durable for a ring? Do you know how far in advance of a wedding you send out the invites? Do you know what hair style works best on a hot summer day? Do you know how to match a vest with a dress? Do know what you buy at a patisserie?
See: You don't know a thing.
Last weekend, Matt was reminded how much he doesn't know when he tagged along for the official cake tasting at Rolf's Patisserie in Lincolnwood. Of all the odd and painful wedding tasks, Matt was looking forward to the tasting.
After all, his married guy friends - when they would hear the tasting was still ahead - would invariably nudge him.
"Oh, that's great," they's say reassuringly. "That's actually fun. That was the best part."
See: They know nothing, either.
Lynne and Matt sat down in the back room of Rolf's. Cake Girl - a pleasant but generally disinterested employee - put two plates down in front of Lynne and Matt. She then rattled off the names of jellies, puddings, fillings, icings, breads and maybe there was a zeppelin in there. Matt couldn't be sure.
When Matt had pictured the cake tasting, he imagined slice after slice of cake, like the tour of the Willie Wonka Chocolate Factory. Accordingly, Matt skipped breakfast, anticipating of the Cake Parade.
See: Matt knows nothing.
Instead of endless rows of cake, there were six kinds of bread (including carrot and banana), a few skimpy rows of "fillings" that - as far as Matt knew - were divided alphabetically by price from top to bottom.

Matt stared at the tiny dollops of ... what were they? Does jelly go on cake? Isn't pudding it's own food? How can there be white and red cakes - those are colors, not flavors, right?
Cake Girl asked them to start tasting and match the insides with the cake.
Matt took a little taste of the banana bread. (An aside: Why so little bread? This seemed like a place with endless amounts - possibly vats of bread and icing - yet the samples were designed for Lilliputians. Second, yes, Matt knows it's probably not called 'bread'. Whatever.) Mmmmmm. Hmmmm. Matt took a little taste of the frosting (lemon). Mmmmm. Hmmmmm. Pledge and bananas. It was good. So was chocolate and chocolate, white cake and strawberry, carrot and jelly.
Mmmmm. Hmmmm. Yum. Um?

Then, Cake Girl opened up her book and showed Lynne and Matt (non-edible) pictures of cake after cake after cake. Pick whichever one you like, she offered.
Matt wondered what he was looking for. Structural stability? Height? Canoe-like shape?
Of course, in the end Lynne picked combinations that actually made sense while Matt sat at her side, like a primate, eating the leftover rows of frosting.
None of this fazed Lynne. Now, some might say Lynne is low-key and low-maintenance, which would certainly be true. But, maybe, she just knows Matt doesn't know a thing and he's happy to agree with her good choices.
Oh, so what kind of cake did they pick? Well, Matt was instructed by Lynne, with the express written consent of Major League Baseball, not to tell. Lynne says she wants it to be a surprise on The Big Day.
And there you go. As soon as you do learn something, you're not supposed to tell anyone. Matt's learning.

Food, glorious food!

Last week, Lynne and Matt took part in yet another of the pre-wedding traditions: The Tasting. They went to the Holiday Inn (do you have a room yet?) where Lynne, Matt, the Seagos and the Hanleys got to sample all the possible wedding meals until their bellies burst. (Figuratively only.)
To this point, Matt believed there was only three food groups: pizza, burgers and Diet Coke. Apparently, there are others. So, since some of you are probably hesitating to send back your response card, waiting to see what kind of food you'll order for The Big Day, here's a run down of the selections:

- If you pick the chicken meal, you get breaded chicken with white sauce on it. It was excellent!
- If you pick the beef meal, you get a fillet Mignon. Wow, very tasty.
- The vegetarian meal is pasta primavera with garlic cream sauce. Mrs. Seago - who is not a vegetarian - was so won over by this meal, she switched her pick on the spot. Everyone thought it was a winner.

All the eaters will get mashed potatoes and broccoli which, strangely, is Lynne's favorite snack.
There's still a little time, so if for some reason you need to change your meal, just give Lynne or Matt a call or drop them an email.
More updates coming soon...and possibly some real Johnny Depp news! (Intriguing, isn't it?)

Lynne's dream, as told to Matt

What follows is a synopsis of Lynne's dream, as told to Matt, via cell phone on April 9, 2008. No details were changed, pretty much.


In Lynne's dream, she is at the rehearsal dinner. It's the night before The Big Day. But there is a problem.
Matt and Lynne never had time to go to the food tasting. So they never picked the food to be served at the reception. The reception was going to be held in - of course - the basement of Lynne's grandfather's old house. Even though it didn't have a basement. Unimportant.
Being a no-nonsense, take-charge gal, Lynne heads into chef's room for advice. After all, who would know good food better than the chefs?
There were three or four chefs down there. Lynne asks them about the meals. For the first course one chef suggests either salad or roasted almonds.
Roasted almonds? That's an odd choice, Lynne thinks.
"Our guests will have either almonds or salad?" she asks.
The're covered in powdered sugar, the chef insists. They're the most popular item on the menu, the chef insists.
Lynne is thinking this over when suddenly she's back upstairs. And there's another problem. The head chef is dead. We don't know how he died. It's unimportant. He's dead; that's all that matters.
It gets worse. Everyone suspects Lynne was involved.
"If there's a problem with the head chef, we have to call the police," Lynne suggests, helpfully.
"No, because they'll suspect you," the other chefs tell Lynne. "You're the one who never picked your wedding food."
Lynne is nervous. So, she takes the only reasonable course of action. She chokes the sous chef.
Does the sous chef survive? Doesn't matter. Unimportant. Because, now, Lynne's running in the street.
She sees a cop car is coming to save her. But the bumbling cops turn the wrong way!
Then she wakes up.

So...what does it all mean?
One interpretation might be that this wedding stuff is starting to get to Lynne.
Matt's take: It was Lynne, in the pantry, with a wrench!
Who do you think committed the murder of the head chef? Is the sous chef really dead? And why do they call it a sous chef? And, really, roasted almonds?