Mami, That Bowl Of Salsa Isn’t Worth It

When you are a new baby, and your mami is a new Mami, there are a lot of things that fall into the category of “experimental”, or “trial and error”. Both parties are learning how and what to do and when a decision is just a really, really bad idea. Today’s lesson in our house is all about food.

When I was a little smaller, there were days when I would refuse Mami’s boob, and was just infuriated with it. Boob is usually my absolute favorite thing, but there were these times when it was terrible! Like a flat and moldy wine, the taste was off, the quality was atrocious, and it hurt my poor little stomach something awful. As a definite connoisseur, my palate is very sensitive to any slight difference regarding what I have come to expect in a delicious boob, and I am definitely not one to be shy about letting Mami have it when there is something wrong.

Back to my earlier days. At first, Mami and Papa didn’t consider much what she was eating. It was not a junky diet, because she loves to cook, buys organic food almost all the time, and when she even freezes a steak, she feels like she needs to apologize to it. But there were definitely things that she was putting into her mouth, that then went into her stomach, and leaked a little into my precious boobs, that just brings back that whole moldy wine analogy.

I have done some independent research of my own on the effect of the diets of mothers, or lack of effect, on breastmilk, and there are folks who swear that it changes things, and folks who promise it doesn’t. Maybe it changes from baby to baby (I am just one sweetie, after all, so all I know is my own personal experience), but, from where I stand on my chubby little legs, I can tell you that there is a noticeable difference.

In case it helps some of you reading out there, here are the things that I, as a consumer of fine boob, never want to taste in abundance in my mami’s wonderful boobs.

  • Peanuts. Mami was looking for a quick snack option that wasn’t potato chips, so she went for peanuts in the shell, because she loves to crack them open. The thing is, my digestion is not very developed right now, and peanuts are hard for even adults to digest, which is why so many people have allergies to them. It is easy for her to eat about a half-pound to a pound of those things at one time. Yeesh! What always follows is a few hours of me crying inconsolably. Turns out this “snack option” is a one-way ticket to sadness for my entire family.
  • Dairy. In small quantities, this isn’t that bad, but when cheese worms its way into the menu every day, it is a surefire way to send this sweetie into tearful fits of destruction.
  • Spicy peppers. Just like dairy, a little of this a couple times a week has been okay so far. But, yesterday, Mami had a little bowl of salsa, so she got brave and decided to try it again today because it was another “quick snack option”. Let me just tell you, folks, hell hath no fury like a sweetie spiced! I have been crying for almost four hours straight!¬† Luckily for her, it is a night that Papa is home, so she isn’t in it alone, but this was definitely a mistake that will¬† be avoided like tuberculosis in the future.

Mami, if you are reading this, please think a little more about what you are going to eat. I know we are trying things out, and learning as we go, and tonight was a lesson in where those lines are drawn in bold and underlined about twenty times. But I promise you, and you my readers, for those sweeties like me, that bowl of salsa isn’t worth the hurricane of upset baby tears that will flood you incessantly for hours like waves in a typhoon. Please be kind, and keep those boobs tasty and pure for us little sweeties everywhere! We will thank you with our gummy smiles and calm demeanor, and the little bit of extra mindfulness on your part will definitely be worth it to you.

Mr. Sweetie

Mr. Sweetie is a first-time person and full-time sweetie. He loves kisses and his Papa, Cisco, and hanging out with his Mami, Grandpa, and Koolma while he learns about living. He drools sometimes, and his dreams are of big, happy, milky boobs, and saving the world. He thinks life is like a giant boob: the more you suckle, the more it produces. You can find him most days sleeping in the bed he was born on, planning his next fantastical adventure.

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