Solids.

Solid food.  It has begun.

At two days old my precious little girl was holding up her head, to everyones' surprise and pleasure.  Two months old she was sitting up with assistance.  Four months old, she began sitting up on her own. Yes, I got my Christmas wish!  But... somewhere in there, somewhere along and between all these beautiful and exciting accomplishments, those adorable, itty bitty little hands began to get grabby.  Oh the mischievousness that happens when little hands learn to grab.  

Thanksgiving day, I sat at what used to be the kid table, until all the kids grew up.  I had my little girl in my lap.  The experience of sitting among young people with a child is new.  There's all of a sudden a new perspective, as I leave the table to change a diaper, miss out on pie because I simply forgot, or realize I'm the only one that's no longer a student.  Knowing that a few months ago I was in the young-person boat of worrying about rent, and getting hours at my job... and now I consider the life of a child in my arms, and her eternal destination is entirely on my head.  How quickly priorities change.  

As everyone laughs and coos at this little girl, whom I hold with one hand, I am waving my mashed potato laden fork through an obstacle of what seems like hundreds of flailing baby hands, to my mouth.  This is also new.  I read all around to introduce food, "When she starts to show interest," and I wondered (as all new parents wonder and worry) how I would know if she was showing interest.  Today was that day.  There was no doubt of this little baby's new interest in food, as I looked down and discovered her tiny fingers covered in the contents of my paper plate.  

At that time she was only three months old, so we waited the proper amount of time, and the day she turned 4 months, we pulled out a jar of apple sauce.  This little girl was bred to ingest.  She was so in love with that apple sauce, not a drop hit her bib.  For the next week I spent a small amount of time each day allowing her to taste, and practice with the spoon.  By day two she was grasping the spoon and bringing it to her own mouth.  I thought, "Wow!  I have a little eating prodigy on my hands!  She's doing everything perfect!"  So then we moved on to different types of foods.  Peaches, Pears, Peas, Potatoes, Prunes, everything she could reach, she would eat.  Amazing!

Then somewhere along the line, the bib started to get a little messier.  And the baby started getting a little wigglier, until not only would the bib, the burp rag, and my hand towel be dripping with goodies, but so would I be.  So we stopped the food for a while, and started shopping for high chairs.  This was when I realized my completely vulnerable, tiny baby was not so helpless anymore, and definitely not so tiny.  We shopped around, and looked for sales, and compared website prices, and blah blah blah, until I decided I wanted to feed my baby foods again!  She was so sweet and perfect when she ate, and I just wanted to have that back.  So I went out and bought a high chair!  No sale, no coupon, straight out, paid with cash, completely committed I went home, strapped her in, got her apple sauce and.... 

We now start each meal with three spoons, and the dogs sit, waiting beneath the table.  As soon as this rainy weather has passed, I will be investing in suction-bottom bowls.  We have already invested in a few more bibs.  My little eating-angel appears sometimes, but the majority of the time, there is a little beast, who though she cannot reach beyond the tray, somehow still manages to get the spoon out of my sight, and somewhere... somewhere.... somewhere on the floor.  

And did I mention that she's been learning to cry for what she wants?  

To say the least eating solids is great!

Meat.

I went through this weird stage about a year ago... two years ago...?  (I've recently grown and born a child, don't judge.)  Where my uncle declared that my family lineage is not Mexican as we always thought, but that we're actually Jewish.  Some smarty-pants DNA study threw off everything I ever knew!  Of course, as a child, growing up in South Tucson, I always wondered why I didn't look like all my little Mexican friends.  They had thick black hair, and mine was fine and brown.  They had beautiful brown skin, and I was white, but with patience I could tan to a beautiful olive.  Even though, I was never the same color.  I had these circles under my eyes that I've fought since I learned what foundation was.  Oh, and did I mention they all had BEAUTIFUL, envy invoking eyebrows?  Yeah, mine are straight, and wimpy, and the shape is just over all wrong. Oh yes, let's not forget that bump on my nose.  Thank my Irish mother that at least my nose is small!  So you can imagine, that the moment my dad said, "Jew," I suddenly looked in the mirror and my cosmetic world made sense.

Oh, how I embraced it.  I embraced it with such excitement, that my perfect Mexican Spanish accent flew out the window in about a second.  All my aspirations to speak the perfect fluid Spanish dissipated.  I regret that now, of course.  I had sat through two years of college Spanish in my desperation to prove my Mexican lineage, that I had never been able to properly connect with.  And all of a sudden, I was free.  Also, I stopped caking cover-up under my eyes, and embraced my new-found lineage.  (After all this spiritual-soul-searching-where-did-I-come-from-who-am-I business, my baby was born with a specific Hispanic birth mark.  So my daughter proves to me there's a little Mexican in there somewhere.)

So why do I bring this up now?  BECAUSE I JUST MADE MACHACA AND ITS SO STINKING YUMMY I FINALLY FELT MEXICAN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIIIIIIIIFE!

Granted, the recipe came from SkinnyMs.com, so that tells you right there that it's far from truly Mexican.  BUT MAN IS IT GOOD!  Click here for the recipe.  Just a note, I changed a couple of things to work from my 10pm kitchen.  I used Shallots instead of a small onion.  I don't even know the difference, but Shallots are cuter, and sound fancier, so I had some.  I used powdered Garlic, instead of cloves.  I was going to risk the whole operation and attempt it without Jalapenos, when I discovered a can of Jalapenos in my pantry!  Thank you Mother in Law for planning to attempt a Mexican recipe who knows how long ago.  The canned Jalapenos are teensy, so I used a whole bunch, instead of one (Though my husband would tell you that I just like to suffer).  Also, for my canned tomato sauce, I buy low sodium.  Since the pregnancy, any significant amount of sodium easily removes my wedding ring from my finger, so I eat to avoid sausage fingers.  Even with less salt, the seasonings in the recipe (including my absolute favorite, Cumin) are so devine, you'll never miss it.  But I imagine if you follow this recipe to the T, you'll get a nice, strong punch in the face.  It's that good.