Eva Amurri Martino blogging: Take the High(President) from the street – dealing with My daughter’s Annoying while eating

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Eva Amurri Martino’s blog: Take the High(President)
01/25/2016 08:30 PM ET

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Who’s back: looking VIP bloggers Eva Amurri Martino!

The actress, then traces her mother Susan Sarandon, is best known for her role in bran and Californication, and she has guest starred in The Mindy Project and New girl.

Two years after sites in Charleston, South Carolina associate, Amurri Martino and her husband, sports commentator and 36-hour reception host Kyle Martino, announced they were expecting their first child — a girl.

The couple welcomed their 17-month-old daughter Marlowe in July-August of 2014.

Amurri Martino, 30 years After started a lifestyle blog-a Fun eve, where he shares his adventures in motherhood, in the section other topics. You can also find on Instagram and Twitter @thehappilyeva.

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

Let me tell you a little bit about the worst part of my day. Part of my day-to-day requires every ounce of patience tired of my, among of caffeine on the brain. My day ends in tears (from me) at least once a week, sometimes more. Part of my day that makes me dream, 22-year-old idiot (there is no judgment other than my own idiocy younger) with infinite freedom.

Let me tell you about meal times WITH MY BABY.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner (snacks) – this new battlefield Martino in the home. They are a weak spot in my armor, which was opened by Marlowe and expand your little sweet sticky fingers and “Boop! Beep! Beep!” on the right side of the chest the proverbial button.

Let me begin, remember that my daughter had Just Eater Exclusively. It was so easy and fun to feed someone else used to get literally to us in the restaurants and observe how friendly and insatiable was our son. “I’ve never had a meal that you don’t like!” I want to laugh, super proud and arrogant. Marlowe I could eat (or try!) everything under the sun. Each food that you ate, asked her for a piece.

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

In the last month or so, everything changed. Every meal is a struggle. Every bite is a struggle. She asks him, a little cheese, Mama! CHEESE MOTHER”, he takes a piece, and then you have to throw the rest on the floor. Refusal to eat another piece.

She asks nothing, and only to reject him as soon as he gets back on his plate. She’s going to eat a bucket of chicken a day, and the next day sobbing in hysterics when I plate with a piece of chicken near her. How dare I present them these poisonous chicken!

She cries, she beats his head in a box, a chair. She pulls her own hair. She burst into tears, “DISGUSTING!!!!” and she meets me when I try to get close to her and rationalization. I will distract you a book, you’ll get a great and balanced piece of food in my mouth, and then I will see how he chews carefully and then the shell spits on the floor.

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

My son how to protect “ABC food spicy. You can slam the oven door with still chewed my hopes and dreams. I convince, I urge, I demand that you threaten me. I try not to pull the old “If you eat your dinner, you’ll be near it to sit until you’re finished”, ACC.

From your answer? Smug head laid out on his tray, and contemptuously whispers, “Bye, Bye.”

Of course, sometimes (when you least expect it), make them happy through food Chow without the slightest hint of youth Goblin I usually try, and it makes me so, I want fireworks. Usually this extraordinarily delicious food, the behavior of the time she spends in front of the Pope … , convinced that I was out of my mind.

It has become part of me, mother, I always feared must be that (sweating) called his son with fear “uh, Hello darling, sugar plum, what would YOU like to eat today? Oh, elderberry-braised pheasant with one side of the truffle potato chips? Oh yesss, of course, come on the right side of my Princess.”

Another part of me was, as a ridiculous figure: a man who ARGUES WITH a CHILD. I mean whaaaaat. I stand over my body and looked at me disappointed and angry at the remnants of a piece of string cheese on the floor and think: “What would I do doctor?”

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

And then I think, who the hell am I kidding — I’m tired of therapy to break this down from me:

One thing is clear, it is a struggle of power in the moment. Clearly, my child is not a child anymore, and she, to test the waters with her mother. Clearly, Marlowe and I, we fight for control, and obviously, they becomes the winner.

And how do I know? Because I’m a man, adult crying, because the phone is not with my husband at work that “Marlowe never came to your mac and cheese!!!!” Handle her friend.

I can understand all these things, and yet I can’t get Zen about it. I can not go quite off this flight. I’m very tired? Too much? It’s not just lights enough? – All possible.

More Eva PEOPLE.com blog series:

Eva Amurri Martino’s blog: we’re talking about sex (After) Baby
Eva Amurri Martino’s blog: the story of Marlowe’s First case of a Large
Eva Amurri Martino’s blog: Have an Honest First quarter

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

I don’t even know that I’m not alone. I had a social hour with a mother, a friend, a child, a girl, is all about how deeply we despise lunch break. And it made me feel better. Made me feel much better, really.

I gave her pitiful, as is the frustration with a person, six teeth. Hey, you’ve made me feel like purgatory maybe “diet from a group of young children in eternity.” We both believe that someone was feeling the same way that we do.

So, this is my point of view, I think. I have no words of wisdom or big decisions for our little ones, than one big pain in the ass for four hours a day accurate. I only know what I think, my friend, in the hour of sacrament to every day — my son each piece takes from her food, looking me straight in the eye, and lay on the floor, and I wonder how many deep breaths it takes at this point.

Courtesy Eva Amurri Martino

I also think about how the other 22 hours of the day we spent with an incredibly sweet and fun version of my son, still run from me, wrap your arms around my neck, putting his forehead to mine, and my mother, I seeeeeee openly say: “!”

And baby, I’m obsessed.

She makes me laugh, and it gives me the feeling that I’m doing something, it is well with my life and most of all that you are makes me forget that you are four times a day, I usually sit in front of her, the degeneration of the white plastic recovery from the plate and count quietly to 10.

— Eva Amurri Martino

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