As Otto rapidly approaches 21 months he is beginning to really become a two year old. So we have a few months until it is official but his mood swings, mini tantrums and low blood sugar issues scream maturity. I have no one to blame but myself. It is well known in my family that I can not go longer than three hours without eating for fear that I will break down the front door and run through the streets like Frankenstein on his nightly sojourn.
I had a physical yesterday at 11 a.m. and was not allowed to eat after 11 p.m. the previous night. I was so petrified that I would starve to death in my sleep that I ate two pieces of toast right before the cut off time and rushed over to the clinic at 9 a.m. to have my blood drawn and not have to wait the extra two hours without food. I then enthusiastically drove to The Bagel Broker and made love to an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese, eating as if I had just been rescued from Survivor Season 3, complete with cream cheese smudges on my face and in my hair.
Dave and I once tried the Master Cleanse, a horrific, restricted caloric experience with a small grocery list of lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper. You are supposed to drink nothing but that combo of yummy for 10 days and see a huge change in your energy level and your fecal matter. I lasted 18 hours and most of those consisted of me sleeping and moaning in agony. Twelve hours in, I came downstairs and found Dave sipping his lemonade mix and watching the Food Channel. Glutton. He at least made it to the fifth day, after which he stopped due to horrible leg cramps and uncontrollable anger.
Today, Otto pulled a breakfast hunger strike and by 11 a.m. he was cranky and foul and irrational beyond belief. When I am starving, I begin to shake and then burst into tears, wanting nothing more than to be left alone and force fed a slice of pizza. How many car trips has Dave had to pull over and shove something in my mouth before I faint? I am tons of fun, never!
Well, this apple has not fallen far from the psycho tree. I knew I had to get him in his chair and chewing within minutes but I had very few options ready. I opened up a can of black beans and cut up natural nitrate free hot dogs and heated them up. It was white trash at its best and he didn’t even look at that pile of waste. Then I fed him left over chicken stew. Nope, not even a lick from his usually willing tongue. He only wanted a few handfuls of Dave’s pasta from the night before and a Yo Baby yogurt. Good enough for me. He went to bed after three books and 1 grams of “natural” sugar. Sweet dreams.
I still haven’t had a real lunch. I think I feel a tear welling in my left eye…