A Pride Post Again

If you pay attention, you can learn a little something each day. Normally, I operate in the mundane. Slow down while eating so you don't choke, hold the baby's feet so he doesn't Riverdance in his own poopy diaper, use electrical tape, not duct tape, to keep the school agers quiet. You know, common sense.

But lately I have had my eyes opened to something pretty important. Pride, stupid pride (insert child gasping at the use of the "s" word). The most difficult lessons I have been taught in recent years all have to do with pride. The word is like a nasty taste in my mouth. I just want to spit it out.

Such has been the lesson of late. Nursing Cameron came to a point around about a month or so ago, where I was continuing on just for pride. He's had four front teeth for months now, and the kid could probably - quite successfully - drink a triple thick milk shake with a coffee stir stick.

About the same time, I realized that he didn't like pureed food. He wanted substance, texture, chunks. He eats table food very well, and actually drinks less milk that his sister did at that age.

God has a way of pushing you toward the right answer if you keep your eyes peeled. Or, for me - someone who doesn't pay attention very well - He can get downright overt.

The day I decided to give Cam some formula, I got a call from a good friend whose baby had just been weaned. My friend is a champion coupon and sale shopper. She regularly gets things for free and stocks up when things are on sale. Consequently, when their little one was done drinking formula, they still had several cans of the stuff that they weren't going to use.

Coincidence? I think not.

I feel a little bit bad, but that's just my pride talking. The kid is a healthy 8mo old that eats three solid meals a day. I'm just feeling bad that I didn't make it to a year. Say nothing for the achievement of making it to 8 months! The only thing getting in the way of owning that success (again) is pride.