#dads have no choice but to say yes to their hungry children’s cravings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purplesurveys · 4 years

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Are you unhappy at the moment? I wouldn’t say that. I’m just a little hungry but it’s bearable. I *might* by seeing Gabie tomorrow since I have to bring Cooper to the vet again so I’m a little kinda excited for that possibility, but I’m not holding my breath. When was the last time you read a full book? That would be when I finished Justin Roberts’ memoir last May. Are you back in school? No, I am very nearly out of it. I just have to wait for an official memo from the college enumerating the list of graduates, but all of my grades are in and I’m pretty much out the door. Who did you last hang out with? Cooper, before he started getting rough and I had to place him back in his crate to calm down. Kimi’s also starting to get the hang of him too so he was in the picture, but was still mostly shy and just being a grouchy senior dog who didn’t like playtime haha. When's the last time you got in trouble with your parents? With my mom, a week ago. With my dad, I barely remember.

How many children do you want? One or two would be perfect.

Are your nails painted? Nopes. Do you need to take a shower? I kind of do because I’m feeling a bit hot and am sweating a bit, but I don’t take a shower until late evening and I don’t wanna break that routine. Have you ever watched Keeping Up With The Kardashians? I’ve watched the first three seasons and I will sometimes catch recent episodes when I’m staying at a hotel that has the E! channel, but I don’t religiously follow the show. Love the family though, I’ll admit that. Are you single? Haven’t been for the last four years. Do you have any career ideas in mind? For sure. I don’t have specific job titles in mind, but I do have paths I’m interested in taking. Do you have any gay friends? I have a ton of gay friends. In general, I have more LGBTQ+ friends than straight ones. Are you gay yourself? I don’t think so. I’m demisexual, which doesn’t necessarily mean gay. Are you doing anything this weekend? No different than what the last four months have been, except this time around puppy-sitting is now a part of my routine. How many brothers do you have? One. When was the last time you talked on the phone? Last Friday. I brought Cooper to the vet for bloody diarrhea and the vet was making me pick between just taking a stool sample or have him tested for parvo altogether (which was gonna be considerably more expensive). Since I was bringing my dad’s money and because he’s the ~primary~ owner of Cooper, I had to call him a couple of times so he can decide what to do with him because I didn’t wanna make the wrong choice. Do you like Mexican food? I do love Mexican food but it’s honestly not a cuisine I find myself craving a lot, unlike Indian or Indonesian cuisine which I’m always down for. What time is it? It issssssss 6:50 PM. What's your best friend's pet's name(s)? Gabie’s family has so many dogs but I only know of four: Dash, Quincy, Harley, and Tofu. Angela has Hailey, Kennedy, and a black lab but I’ve forgotten his name. How many pens are in the room you're currently in? Two. Did you go to work today? No work, but school-wise I didn’t have to do anything either. When was the last time you were disappointed? Earlier this afternoon when I opened the fridge and there was nothing I wanted to eat. Do you wear clothes from your school? Yeah my alma mater loved having t-shirts for all events so I have tons of those left over. I wear them around the house now because it’d be wasteful to throw them away. As for my university, I do have a couple of shirts and hoodies because school prideeeeeee. Have you ever done Safety Town? I’ve never heard of that, so probably not. How old are you? How old do you act? I am 22. I have no clue how old I act actually. I have times where I have zero street smarts and get super ditzy and seem like a 12 year old lol but there are times where I have to step up and give my friends advice, look out for them, and basically be the mom that acts older than all of them. What size shoe do you wear? 6 or 7 works fine for me. When was the last time you got a splinter? I can’t even remember; it’s been a while. Have you ever walked into a wall? Not a wall, but I’m not ruling out walking into a glass door because I’m pretty sure that’s happened at least once. Are there any spiders in your room right now? There might be tiny tiny ones. Nothing big enough to send me away from where I am. Have you ever taken a picture while laying in the grass? As much as possible I don’t like doing that, so probably not. What's your favorite number? I don’t have one. Are you old enough to buy alcohol? Yeah, for the last four years. Have you ever watched iCarly? Just a few episodes. I did make sure to catch the One Direction episode the same day it aired though HAHAHA agh man life was so much simpler when all I did was be a fucking fangirl without a care in the world.

What was your favorite class during your sophomore year of high school? I had the best grades in Asian history, but I personally loved biology because I had the biiiiiggest crush on my teacher (and so did everyone else). She was so pretty and so so smart and so sophisticated; I knew she was gonna be my favorite once she introduced herself and told us she took her grad studies in France haha. She was WAY too qualified for my school and I’m glad she knew that because she transferred to another job a year later. Who's your favorite Disney charater? Rapunzel, and Rex from Toy Story heheh. Are there any framed pictures of you in your house? Yes, by the stairs. My Prep portrait is also hung up in my room. Do you listen to music while you clean your room? Sometimes. Do you wear bandanas in your hair? I don’t think I’ve used a bandana ever since we needed to wear them on our hair for our Kinder 2 moving-up ceremony.

When was the last time you ate a banana? Last May when I was sick and I was trying every rule in the book to get better. What's your favorite word? ‘Poignant’ has always been a good candidate. Have you ever been on a blind date? Nope, not into that. Have you ever taken the eHarmony personality quiz? No. Do you need to shave? Not right now, no. I’ve just done that recently. Are you wearing makeup right now? Definitely not. Do you know anyone named Laura? Nah. One of my favorite bands is fronted by a Laura, though.

#survey #surveys

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hedgehogian · 5 years

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i feel trapped

i feel like i can’t go anywhere. i can’t push myself out of my comfort zone. it’s like it’s constricting me. i think of walking to the 7/11 that’s a short distance from my house but i can’t make myself actually do it. it doesn’t feel like a real option. it’s like, if i do this thing, i won’t be “me” anymore, i won’t be the same person, it’ll be too traumatizing, so i shouldn’t do it.

it’s so weird. i don’t know why i feel this way. ever since turning 18 i’ve felt like i’ve had no agency at a time in my life where i ideally should be gaining more. embarrassingly, a lot of my time is spent idly wishing i was a teenager again, because teenagers are supposed to feel constricted by things beyond their control. they’re in a growing period, they’ve got a cultural safety net, they’re still children.

i’m not a child anymore, but i feel so young. i feel even more helpless than i did when i was 16, less capable than i was at 12. i feel lost, i feel distant from the age i am. i feel like i can hardly relate to my peers, as much as i want to.

i feel like an idiot all the time. i don’t trust myself. i feel like there’s something wrong with me, like i was underbaked or undercooked in a more fundamental way than just physically being born premature. i know emotional immaturity is a sign of premature babies (according to my mom), but that just makes me feel embarrassed.

ubers are so expensive. i swear, my mom was thinking of calling an uber to go someplace a few weeks ago, i called it for her and the fee was like $20 for a fifteen minute drive. i have no idea how that works--sometimes the price will be as low as $7 or as high as $15 for the same route. it’s just another thing i don’t have control over, another thing that’s incomprehensible.

so i can’t take an uber to the 7/11, even to buy a snack or something. it��s so frustrating. i get hungry and i go to the fridge and pantry. i look inside and then mope and inwardly complain because i want something that isn’t there, even though i have no idea what that something is. my therapist says i need spontaneity, i need to shake things up in terms of my diet, but all that seems good is junky, sugary stuff, like hostess snacks or mcdonald’s or pop tarts. i want to be healthy. i crave physical health because i don’t have mental health. i feel like if i can sit out it my backyard in the sun and eat some carrots, maybe do a small chore or two, i’ll feel good and healthy, but then the boredom, the craving to go out and do something, always comes back.

but i just want agency. i want to be able to make my own choices, but i don’t drive, i never learned to ride a bike, i’m scared to walk. i’ve paralyzed myself.

and i punish myself. i push myself to this weird dreamy depressive state, the kind you get at 4 a.m. when you hear the birds chirp, when you’ve stayed up all night in a weird fervor, clicking youtube videos just to keep busy. it’s like when you eat cheetos and kool-aid and chocolate cake until you vomit just so your mom can come in and declare that Yes, You’re Definitely Sick. i want to wander about in a sleep-deprived haze so my dad or someone can come up to me and tell me that i have permission to go back to bed and sleep for as long as i need to until i feel better. i want to sleep and for people to understand.

everything feels overwhelming and taxing. i’ve just remembered that i still need to fill out a father’s day card i got for my dad. i want to cry. i’ve stayed up all night like an idiot. my sister and dad are going to work until 5 tomorrow. i’ll be alone except for my twin, who mostly stays in her room anyway. i’ll be alone.

i get so lonely now. what happened? when i was 12 i loved being alone. when i was 16 i loved it even though i was depressed and anxious. now i feel so lonely when my parents are gone for more than 3 hours, like some needy little kid. it’s so embarrassing.

i don’t feel safe anywhere. i just feel trapped.

-june 16, 2019, 5:37 a.m.

#personal

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gaiatheorist · 7 years

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Just a spoonful of sugar...

Fakebook- “I’m giving up chocolate for January!”

The Guardian- “You might as well give your baby gin!” (OK, I’ve taken a bit of a liberty with that, but there are LOADS of “Sugar, HUH, what is it good for?” articles.)

Twitter has thrown up the occasional BBC news story, and ‘promoted tweet’ about cakes and such as opposed to signing up for a gym-pass, but I have such a tiny and carefully pruned Twitter, I’m hardly deluged with it.

I don’t like chocolate. Pick your jaw up off the floor, there are humans, and, more specifically human-females, who don’t like chocolate. I’m drawing a distinction between males and females because of the advertising-skew, there’s only really ‘Yorkie’ that’s not pushed at the fantasy-female, who wafts about in a lacy negligee, reading romance novels, and eating chocolate. There IS chocolate in the house, but, by the time I eventually ‘need’ to eat it (Brain injury, combined with historical disordered-eating means I quite frequently forget to eat, chocolate is quick, and calorie-dense.) it will have that weird white ‘bloom’ all over it, and I’ll probably eat something else. I don’t like chocolate, and, despite there having been a MASSIVE box of sweets on my work-desk for years, it was rarely me eating them, they were people-bait, and an emergency stash, for all the times people missed lunch.

“Children are consuming 9 billion percent of their suggested sugar-intake at breakfast!” Yes, they possibly are, how else are parents expected to wake the little shits up enough to put their shoes on? That BBC/Guardian thought-stream plunged me into un-fond memories, of shop’s-own cornflakes, with white sugar sprinkled on them, and now I’m not sure whether I want to brush my teeth, or shave them. Porridge, always a bit of a bargaining-chip with my grandparents, in that the Scots side told us the Irish/Welsh side were WRONG to put sugar on porridge, instead of salt, and vice-versa. My Irish Grandma used to put sugar on EVERYTHING, half an orange, with sugar on it, strawberries, WITH SUGAR ON. I still technically have all of my teeth, but ALL of my molars are filled. My son doesn’t have a single filling.

Sugar-on-cereal was very much a ‘thing’ when I was a child, but I don’t expect all of the ‘Wheat-bricks’, or ‘Corn-lumps’ or ‘Puffed-rice’ were already loaded, like today’s child-marketed cereals. My child isn’t a child any more, but, even when he was, I didn’t buy much in the way of child-food for him. Oh, apart from when I went back to work when he was four months old, and he wouldn’t take my frozen-and-reheated breast-milk from a bottle, so he ended up on that rancid-smelling ‘banana-flavoured’ follow-on milk from a spouty-beaker if he made the hungry-noise during my four-hour shifts.

I’m in danger of going off on one about the in-laws here, it’s inevitable. The period that I should have spent ‘bonding’ with my son, although massively hampered by postnatal depression, was completely ruined by their overbearing-caring, by their continual insistence on telling me I was doing-the-Mum all wrong. I have a ‘small frame’, whereas most of them are morbidly obese. I strongly suspect that my ‘frame’ is, in fact, no ‘smaller’ than any of theirs, it’s just that the outside of said ‘frame’ is less padded. (Now bringing myself back from a tangent-thought of wondering whether fat people have the same-sized skeleton as thin ones.) ‘Small frame’, narrow hips, ‘small’ baby. OK, he was 6lb 11oz, against my birth-weight of 5lb 10oz, but I was a month premature, and my mother smoked throughout. Oh no! ‘Small’ baby! He’s fucking fine, he’s a normal-sized adult male now, because I managed to have more control over his dietary intake than the in-laws.

There was, and I don’t know if there still is, because I haven’t reproduced since 1998, a weirdly obsessive-competitive culture of ensuring your baby ‘gained’. Weekly weigh-ins, which, now I’m not in the strung-out paranoid state of a new mother, I realise could be used to detect intolerance, and failure-to-thrive, but, back then, making sure the little dots stayed ‘on the line’ was given so much priority it was devastating. Couple that with the in-laws over-feeding ‘normal’ possibly being a generational thing, and I can see why Fakebook ‘friends’ who have had babies later in life than I did are STILL being sucked-in to the ‘hungry baby milk’, and putting rusks IN the bottles. We’re not fattening the kids up for market, and, despite it being a bit cold, I don’t think we’re heading for an apocalyptic Ice-age, where only the lardy will survive.

Potentially Pavlovian, isn’t it? If the babies are consistently over-fed, that’s going to have an influence on their appetite, on their expectation, and, if it’s rusks-in-milk, or synthesised, sweetened cow’s milk, that becomes the ‘norm’. I’ll bang my breastfeeding drum, in that THAT is what they are for. I accept that some women struggle, I struggled, I had weeks of crying in the bath, with tits so mis-shapen and engorged they looked like they were stuffed with Lego. They FELT like they were stuffed with Lego. Hot Lego, it was fucking horrible. Breast-feeding isn’t easy, I would have loved it to have been the cathartic-bonding bollocks ‘we’ are led to believe it is, but some of it is just fucking horrible. The way the milk ‘lets down’, stimulating Oxytocin, the ‘happy’ hormone is an incredibly pleasant sensation if you happen to be looking at the contented face of your suckling newborn, knowing you’re giving them all the sustenance they need. It’s fucking shit when it happens in the middle of Tesco, because someone else’s baby cries, though.

I breast-fed for a year and a day, he had quite a lot of teeth by that last morning feed, the day after his first birthday, but that was my choice, as much as it’s the choice of others NOT to breast-feed, or the choice of that one ‘associate’ on Fakebook who’s still breast-feeding her four-year-old-daughter. The in-laws encouraged me to supplement my breast-milk with formula right from the start. I didn’t. They encouraged me to ‘try a bit of baby-rice’ from about 10 weeks. I didn’t. I did find it odd, that they didn’t want me to go back to ‘having a job’, but were still trying to reduce my son’s dependence on the contents of my bra. They’re feeders. I don’t think they even realise they’re doing it, but they always have. “Have a bit more!” “Have one of these, they’re from Marks and Spencer!” “Have some more cake.”

They grew up in a different time, where food wasn’t so widely available, but not in the same half-starved by poverty way I did. My eating habits were formed early, by having to choke down plates of gristle in my early years, and dinner more or less going ‘ping’ as I grew older. Food is a necessity, it was never a luxury, or a reward, I can take it or leave it, and I don’t associate a huge lump of cake with ‘pleasure’, or ‘comfort’, it’s just cake, which is a thing I’ll eat if there’s nothing else left, knowing that the stomach-noises will follow. My mother didn’t ‘cook’, she re-heated. The ex’s Step-Mum cooks. She cooks far too much, and it’s mostly bland stodge with no flavour, and very little nutritional content, because her husband, and then her children, and step-children are used to that. One of the step-in-laws is one of those that orders omelette in an Indian restaurant. The sister-in-law with a daughter who would ‘only’ eat plain boiled pasta.

Sweets as a treat, sweets as a reward, sweets to stop the toddler crying. Fuck me, the number of times the ex would buy the kid an ice-cream to ‘cheer up’, rather than exploring why he was upset in the first place. There have been frank discussions with the boy recently, and he’s thrown in “Yeah, Dad just buys me stuff.”, he knows.

Sugar, though, that’s a weird one. I put brown sugar in my coffee. The kid puts artificial sweetener in his tea. Artificial sweeteners bloat my gut, but so does white sugar, ‘the killer white’. Neither of us really crave sweet things, despite the sugar-on-white-bread crap at the grandparents house. Bread is a bitch for added sugars, and the horrible stuff really upsets my stomach. I ‘can’ eat bread, but I could also eat a lightbulb if I wanted to.

No idea at all where I’m going with this one, other than deflecting from a decidedly non-Mary-Poppins response to the bloke on the Guardian comments section feeling the need to say “My wife did better than you!” to my comment that I didn’t buy-in sugar laden baby-food for the kid, I just mashed whatever we were eating.

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