I Almost Trolled A Mommy Site

MJ has been forwarding me links to a mommy site that tells us where LMJ is supposed to be developmentally. I’ve kept the e-mails as new for the past couple of months and today I actually opened the newest one and followed the links. It tells us that she’s going to grow a lot this year, she’s going to look less like a toddler and more like a person, and she should have a well balanced diet but we shouldn’t freak out and start measuring her portions – more guidelines than actual rules. Since this was on the internet there was a comment section, which is where, I came to find out, MJ gets a bunch of her “I’m a bad mother” neuroses. I read the first sentence of the first comment and immediately called BS. Since this was on the internet the comment section was filled lies told by liars. Child obesity is one of the biggest healthcare problems in the U.S., but somehow everyone who commented was either a total vegan or, if they were rebels, occasionally fed their child fish, perhaps twice a week. I was sad that women are as full of crap on the interwebs as men. I was mildly amused that MJ didn’t know these ubermoms were anything but. I was upset that I didn’t have time to create a user ID so I could respond with the standard “Pics or GTFO”. Nobody in the U.S. feeds their kid fish unless it is a battered stick served in a pool of ketchup. “Gaia, would you like mahi mahi or tilapia for supper tonight – poached or grilled?” is a mythical conversation. Kids like sugar, salt and cheese – kind of like adults – and random stuff that you thank the gods of baby appetites is nutritious. LMJ likes split pea soup baby food, so that’s how she gets a large portion of her green veggies. We don’t think about why because we don’t want to jinx it. I don’t understand why people have to make stuff up to tell people they will never meet. How does that boost self esteem? The levels of success with raising a child start low. My child is still alive, big ups to me. My child still has all of her limbs, (insert sports cliché). My child is in bed and asleep on time, you may call me grand master.