I’m starting to wonder if my son will be on an all-liquid diet for the rest of his life. Kidding of course. Well, at least, sort of kidding.

My first attempts at introducing little Bear to solids were…unsuccessful. My experiments with solid foods to date have not been any more successful. And by success, I mean any attempts that don’t end in me doing a swipe for large pieces of food, a whack on the back, and huge baby tears.

I’ve tried really hard to be sure to introduce B to good food. I really wanted to start him on organic veggies and then subtly introduce a little fruit. From what I’ve heard, I was sure he would love fruit. I thought oatmeal cereal was the problem. Then I thought he just didn’t like the taste of avocado, or spinach…

I hadn’t introduced anything but veggies until we were at Taco Mac on Saturday. I had the little guy on my lap and he began to reach for my food.

Hooray! I thought. Maybe he will take to solid food after all!

I was so very excited to see him reach for anything other than a bottle that I didn’t mind that he reached for a salt lick french fry. I had been so smug. I even watched this video and I thought: who would give their baby french fries? That mom obviously doesn’t care about the health of her kid.

I’m not kidding when I tell you every time I begin to think I have it all figured out, God throws a wrench in my perfectly planned out motherhood. So there I was, smiling at the fact that my son was consuming more salt than should ever be allowed for an infant and was gumming down fried potatoes. I seriously had the thought, at least he is eating a vegetable! I wish I was kidding.

And then it happened.

“Are you okay Bennett?” My husband asked.

I noticed he had stopped wiggling as much, and then I noticed a huge hunk of french fry at the back of his throat.

I did the old finger sweep in his mouth and then I lightly smacked his back to be sure he wasn’t choking on anything else. We were sitting across from our friends who have an (almost) one year old who was politely playing with his mom’s keys and watching football on the screen. My babe was screaming because I had been so spooked by the whole thing. I walked him outside and he continued to be fussy throughout dinner.

Let me preface this admission with the fact that we are extremely close with this couple. We have seen each other through a lot of life over the last two years. It has been a true blessing to walk through this season especially with Jennifer, who will be referred to as supermom for the remainder of this post. Still, I found myself embarrassed. I’m not sure what was more embarrassing: the fact that I let my six-month-old gum down a french fry, the ensuing choking, or the fact that I seemed like that mom: totally overwhelmed and seemingly ungrateful. Next to supermom, I felt inadequate. I wanted her to see the little Bear that I know: sweet and content. She saw the worst of it, which is so unlike my little guy.

I have texted her more times than I’d like to admit during the wee hours of the morning and the first few weeks of Bennett’s life. I sought her advice as we followed the same book through the early stages of infancy. I respect her so much and she has been the inspiration for many of my posts on IPMPI. She has navigated motherhood with poise and grace; never judging, never fazed by anything. So, I texted her last night to apologize: not for my fussy babe, but for me and my fussy attitude.

I apologized for seeming so stressed over a dinner that should’ve been the safest environment for a mom struggling with the fussiness of a teething babe. She gets it, after all. I apologized for not stopping to enjoy the fact that we were getting to spend time with them after three months of not seeing each other. I apologized for being so embarrassed by my solid mommy fail that I neglected the fun moments of the evening. Most of all, I apologized for seeming ungrateful. I wanted supermom to think I had it all together, just like I look at her and think she has it all together. But seriously, how could I not think that when she works, she cooks, she cleans, she takes care of her mobile almost-one-year-old, and she is training for a marathon…targeted to run in under four hours.

Supermom.

Still, the moment I texted her, she responded with, “you definitely didn’t need to apologize. I understand!”

There is NOTHING that makes a mom more comforted than hearing those two magic words from other moms. We all just want to know that we are not alone in this, our perfectly imperfect attempt at being the moms our perfect babes deserve.

Especially when that imperfection includes a near-choking experience.

Anyone else have some solid mommy fail stories?