You scream, I scream, we all scream for ... broccoli?

Josie has really gotten into this whole "I can feed myself, thanks" attitude. Chris and I wholly support it. So, during every meal, we try to include something she can pick up and get in her maw (or close enough). The other day it was broccoli. I had my doubts, yet she was certainly game to try.

Perhaps not her favorite texture judging by that endearing mug, but she steadily shoveled it in. And I couldn't help but feel a bit smug that my baby was eating broccoli without me having to goad her or bribe her or trick her (not that she would have understood any of those feats of trickery).

Yes indeedy. I was smug. Smug, smuggity, smug. My baby loves broccoli!

Jeez, I really hope I'm not jinxing it. (Well, the dog did eat what landed on the floor. Hmmm...My doggie loves broccoli! Eh, not as satisfying.)

I fought the puffs, but the puffs won

Yes, it's true. I gave in to peer pressure. Or rather, I gave in to pressure from Josie's peers.

You see, Chris and I try to emphasize whole foods in our diets and in our daughter's. We feel, whether rightly or wrongly, that foods closest in resemblance to their form when they sprang from the earth or pasture or a reaction between bacteria and milk...well, you get the point...are the best for our health.

Highly processed foods often lack nutrients or are full of chemical preservatives and stabilizers and fats and salts — ingredients that sure enough make 'em taste good and last on our shelf but don't seem to do a lot for us.

Still, Chris and I don't want to be THOSE parents. You know the ones who look down their noses every time you sneak the little one a french fry or a spoonful of soft serve ice cream. Sure, we don't want Josie to turn into a sugar monster or a carbetarian who goes all Guernica at the sight of broccoli. But we don't want her to be the kid looking forlorn and alone with her carrot sticks while her friends eat cake at birthday parties or who refuses Grammy's homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies because of parental doctrine.

It's a fine line. One we may have crossed a step or two.

It happened about two months ago. We had heard about them. We passed them in their sleek plastic tubes lined up on the grocery aisle and noted silently to ourselves that they must fit so snugly into diaper bags. (Crafty packaging engineers!) We had seen other parents handing them over to buy a few more precious seconds of silence and their kids gobbling them up like candy. We heard their reverse-of-ominous-and-in-fact-rather-cute name: puffs. But we suspected the evil lurking in those quick-dissolving snacks that come in a variety of innocuous flavors such as banana, blueberry and sweet potato.

"Not our child," we said. "No sir. It's a gateway food, you know." First the puffs, then the Cheetos. And we all know how hard a Cheeto habit is to break.

So, when daycare suggested we send some with Josie so she could give herself a snack in the afternoons, we were appalled.

"Oh no, no," we say. "We don't want Josie to have a lot of processed, artificial foods."

"Not even the organic ones?" one of the teachers asks like no one had ever said no to puffs before. Had no one ever said no to puffs before?

"Um. No. Can we send anything else?" We rack our brains. "Maybe some ripe banana pieces?"

"You can. But, you know, the puffs are easy for babies to pick up and they melt really fast in their mouths so they are less likely to choke," she says. Is she pushing puffs?

"Umm...," we stammer.

"We give all the other kids puffs and Josie looks at them like, 'Where are mine?'" she says, striking at our most vulnerable moment.

I don't even remember if we say anything after that. But we go to work feeling guilty. Guilty that Josie is left out during snack time. Guilty that we aren't like the other parents. Guilty that we feel the peer pressure and are caving a little.

I spend an inexcusable amount of time researching an alternative to puffs. And you know what? I couldn't really find one that I was comfortable with or wasn't some cousin of puffs.

Later, Chris goes to the grocery and, out of a weird sense of atonement, buys the most expensive, organic, low sugar, GREEN VEGETABLE flavored puffs. We send them to daycare. We fret.

At home, we wait for Josie to show signs of puff mania. We look for clues that she'll refuse any non-puffed foods, that she'll go on strike until we hand over more puffs, that she'll grow a third, puff-grabbing arm.

Spoiler alert: None of these things happen. Yep. Girl loves some puffs. I think she can even recognize the tube. But she doesn't get them all the time. And we have started sending ripe banana pieces to daycare to break up the snack monotony. We still buy the organic puffs, but only because they're a little lower in sugar and don't contain as many unpronounceable ingredients.

And because, we realize we are (somewhat) THOSE parents...

Weekend recipe: peaches and mango

Josie is a big fan of fruit with cereal, either oatmeal or barley, for breakfast on weekdays.

One of her all-time favorites this summer has been peaches. We were fortunate enough to get Chilton County, Ala., peaches at our farmers market (Eat it Georgia! Chilton County peaches are DA BEST!). So the other day, when our grocery store had some good looking, ripe mangoes on sale , I scooped one up. Turns out mangoes and peaches make a great combination.

Peaches and Mango

(Moms, I think you are also going to like this one. Yes, for yourself. Because when baby's down for a nap, just sneak two frozen cubes of the puree into a fluted glass and top with prosecco or sparkling wine for a delicious bellini.)

Time

Less than 20 minutes prep to finish

Ingredients and Equipment

- About 3 large, ripe peaches or 5 smaller ones (Ripeness is important because you don't want to add sweeteners, especially processed sugar, to baby foods.)

- One ripe mango

- Blender/food processor

- Saucepan

- Ice cube trays

Directions

- Peel and dice peaches and mango

- Add to saucepan and cook on medium heat (You don't need to add any liquid because, if the fruit is ripe, it will release its own juice. But if your baby requires a thinner puree, go ahead and add a little water. More can be added during the blending.)

- Stir occasionally so fruit does not burn or stick to the bottom of the pan. Once fruit starts to soften and bubble, turn off heat and let cool.

- Puree in a blender or food processor to the desired texture: total puree for wee ones, chunky for older babies

- Pour into ice cube trays and freeze. Once frozen, you can transfer the cubes to an airtight, plastic bag to keep in your freezer for a couple of months (if it lasts that long).

Ode to Saturday

On Saturdays, we try new things. We eat cottage cheese with our hands.

Big, globby handfuls of cottage cheese. We squish the curds through our chubby fingers.

Saturdays are good!

It's in the blood

Mommy's little Fressack

My paternal grandmother, Nana, who grew up in the Bronx always speaks to us in her own (perhaps made up) language. And per our culture, the vocabulary has several words for food and people who annoy us. The word I most remember and most use myself is "fress." As in to chow down. I fress, you fress, he/she/it fresses, Let's fress! It's something our family does well. It's in the blood.

And because we are Polacks, there are two subtypes of our people: Fressacks and Pissacks. (You can probably figure the difference out on your own, sans explanation. If not, you may be what my Nana refers to as a hossesfootya. I'm sorry.)

So I'm happy to report my daughter is a Fressack. Case in point, my parents are in town this weekend and we had dinner plans. I asked my folks where they wanted to eat (as if that's a question that needs asking) and, of course, they say the local Indian joint. (Man, we eat a lot of Indian for Polacks. Maybe there's a story in the bloodline I'm not aware of. OK. Back on track).

So nine-month-old daughter is in her high chair munching away on blueberry-flavored puffs and the occasional spoonful of turkey squash dinner until THE ADULTS' FOOD COMES.

And she's freakin' out. Quick like a ninja her tiny paws are grabbing handfuls of basmati rice drenched in Goan curry sauce off my poor father's plate. I'm watching in slow-mo, powerless to cut her off before she's jammed a few long grains into her gullet.

Pshew! Close call. But now, she's pissed. So to appease the raging Fressack, I offer a sacrificial spoonful of plain rice. Surely, she can handle that. Boy, does she!

She starts delicately extracting single grains and then expressly adopts the shovel strategy. Curiosity piqued, I gingerly approach her with a small spoonful of unnatural red but oh-so-delicious butter chicken sauce. She takes it in without even looking up. Smacks her lips as if to say "Yep, that's good" and continues shoveling rice.

"Hey, watch this," I warn my parents (isn't that how disasters start?). I offer up another spoonful. This time, Josie looks up.

"Oh! Oh! She wants water," my mother saws, brows knitted, ready to douse the baby.

Smack. Smack.

"No. I think she likes it," my dad says. "Do it again."

I agree to one last bite (I don't want to risk an upset tummy in the name of flavor exploration). Suffice to say, she was 'bout it, 'bout it.

In fact, I'm pretty sure when Josie's old enough to comprehend race and nationality, she may be quite disappointed to discover she's not from the Indian subcontinent. Hopefully, she'll be sated knowing she's not a Pissack.

Eat as I say, not as I do

Josie's meals so far today: A breakfast of homemade peaches with oatmeal, a lunch of homemade butternut squash and green beans and three 5-ounce bottles.

(I usually pack Josie's food for daycare, but Daddy did it last night because I was incapacitated with a migraine. Whooppeeee! But didn't he do a good job?)

Mommy's meals so far today: A frosted strawberry Poptart, a Chick-fil-A spicy chicken sandwich and a side salad. (Yeah! A vegimable!)

Sigh. Looks like someone needs to lead by example. At least, she didn't see me gobble up my lunch at my desk.

Hindmilk is always 20/20

From the very beginning I knew I would breastfeed. Or at least give it a shot.

I can't really remember how I made up my mind. I know several women, whom I consider mommy mentors, who did and do.

I read research about how breastfeeding is beneficial to mother and child: lower rates of childhood obesity and faster shedding of post-baby flab, decreased risk for breast cancer, fewer incidents of ear infection and other childhood illness, better bonding, etc. It was also free and convenient, sort of. (I'll get to that later)

My husband super supported the idea — even though it meant giving up first dibs — and so did my family and friends.

Still, I recall wondering if I would be weirded out by the sensation or embarrassed at using what I had always considered intimate, sexy parts for practical nutrition. Essentially, could I wrap my mind around the duality of providing mealtimes and still filling out a halter dress?

As it turns out, the answers were nope, nope and yep.

But really, those weren't the right questions. There were moments where I was totally freaked or worried or huddled in a lump on my bed crying.

While it turned out that worry was all thunder and no lightning, I kind of wish I could go back and tell my brand-new-mommy self what this nine-months-in-mommy me knows now.

Here's my chance:

- You can do this and you will do this. In fact, you'll discover you like to do this almost as much as your baby. You'll share moments that no one else can encroach on. You'll rebond in the evenings after hard, long days at work/daycare. You'll have an awesome excuse to snatch that baby back at any gathering.

- You won't have to guess when the baby's hungry. Trust me, she'll let you know. When you hear that angry cat sound, you may want to feed her asap. (Some Polish genes are quite dominant.)

- You'll constantly worry about whether Josie is getting enough. For the love of popsicles, relax! She's happy and healthy. While you can't measure how much she's getting, that smile should tell you you're enough.

- You will breastfeed or pump in awkward places: Kroger parking lot, college tailgate, behind a historic church in Port Gibson while on assignment for work. They will all be funny stories later.

- People will think you are crazy/weird/possibly gross for breastfeeding this long. You will think they are crazy/weird/possibly gross.

- You will become so skilled at breastfeeding, you can do it while texting and eating a snack. But you may want to hang on to some of those snuggles. They are fleeting.

- You will want to quit. Sometimes, it will feel like you are nursing Mike Tyson...'s pet tiger. The slapping, scratching, kicking, punching, clawing, wriggling. But those early morning feedings and those dusky, bedtime feedings are magic. I'm talking rainbows and unicorns.

-Breastfeeding isn't free. You'll need a good pump and bottles. That's an investment, but you'll save thousands in the end. Good golly, Miss Molly! Formula is expensive!

- In some ways, breastfeeding not always the most convenient. In other ways, it is. It's harder to just whip out a boob when you need to, but wherever you are so is the baby's food. Portable and within reach and always fresh.

- Be glad you have a good pump and an awesome husband. They will get you through the rough times.

So, yeps. I'm a big advocate. And I understand not everybody can breastfeed or will or cares, but I believe in the miracle of being a mammal.

I guess, in short, all I needed to say was: HOORAY BOOBS!

Resources:

- llli.org

- medela.com

-cdc.gov/breastfeeding

-kellymom.com

Weekend recipe: spinach and potato

Josie has quickly grown out of the stage 1 foods and is loosing interest with stage 2. Meaning she's starting to prefer different textures and foods she can shovel into her mouth.

She's still eating mostly purees, but I'm trying to spice them up now with new flavor combinations and some seasoning. (NO SALT though)

Since I am an amateur, I like to check out the baby food aisles of my grocery store for ideas. I also like to think of ways to prepare baby-appropriate versions of foods my family enjoys.

So, this weekend I came up with this:

Spinach and Potato*

(Saag Aloo, for you Indian food junkies like me. "They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said, "Naan. Naan. Naan. Oops, tangent.)

*I'd like to caution you before I begin that you may be annoyed at my lack of measuring ingredients. I play fast and loose like that.

Time

Eh. Less than half an hour from prep to finish.

Ingredients and Equipment

-1 package frozen spinach

(While I usually opt for fresh produce, frozen spinach is a better deal. All the nutrients are there and you get more. I hate buying a big bunch of fresh spinach only to see it wilt down into less than a cup.)

-5 small red potatoes

-about a cup or so of sodium-free chicken broth

(I made my own by boiling a chicken, which I used to make chicken baby food. Recipe TBA)

-1/8 to 1/4 tsp of cumin

(If your babe is not a fan of spice, you can omit this. Or feel free to pick your own. Another good seasoning would be sodium-free poultry seasoning. If you and your little one are more adventurous, add a tiny bit of grated garlic)

-ice cube tray

-blender

Directions

-Peel and dice potatoes

-Place potato pieces in sauce pan. Add package of frozen spinach (No need to preheat. Do not drain. Just chuck the whole thing in).

-Add broth and seasoning

-Cook on medium heat and covered until potato pieces are fork tender

-Let cool, then puree in blender. (Mine turned out the consistency of pudding. If your baby prefers thinner purees, add water, formula or breast milk.)

-Portion out into ice cube tray and freeze

(I like this method of freezing because I can pop the cubes into a freezer bag, take out as many as I need the night before and let them thaw in the refrigerator. Cubes can last a month or two.)

First things first

I'm not sure what this blog will turn out to be. Like raising my first child, it's an experiment.

I do know I want to talk about food and eating and cooking and nutrition and how those things are woven into our new "Holy Crap! Where did this baby come from?!" lifestyle.

I mean, who doesn't like talking 'bout food and babies?

But before we go any further, let's Tarantino this.

I had a baby in December. My husband and I named her Josie after my great grandmother, who (not really) coincidentally was an excellent cook and was known for her Polish attitude toward food. "Good people are fat people. Now, eat."

Before Josie was born, I began to to think about how I wanted to feed her, how I wanted her to eat and experience food.

I was a fat kid (and still am inside). I walk the fine line between indulgence and denial.

I hope Josie doesn't have that struggle. I hope she learns to find that elusive happy medium called "moderation."

I want her to eat well, know where food comes from, develop a good palate and still be OK with sometimes choosing to eat the Doritos. Yeah, I said it.

So far, I've been lucky. Big girl likes to eat and eat lots of different things.

Some things I attribute to that:

- I breastfeed.

- I waited until she was interested to start solids and encourage her to feed herself.

- I make most of the baby food she eats.

- I try to offer her a variety of foods.

- I just got lucky.

I can't say I have any of the answers, but I know the questions. I can't say I'm doing it (or anything) right or that I'm qualified to offer advice, but I'm game to try my best and share it all.

Won't you join me and Josie on our tasty adventure?