The worrying never ends

Most people who know me consider me a strong person. I totally agree with them because the dress fits. I am extremely resilient, it takes a lot to shake me and even when I am shaken, it rarely shows. I fall and get right back and I rarely give up, I will keep on trying and trying till I get a result that I can live with. Failing most times for me is not an option and I will always fight for the things and people that I hold dear. However, having a child is threatening this definition of me

Feeding him is a headache

I have grown up with the knowledge that human beings have three basic needs, food, clothing, and shelter. As a parent, I know instinctively that this is the bare minimum I must strive to provide for my offspring. After acquiring the three, getting my young one to utilize and appreciate them is kind of challenging. Ok. Not the shelter so much, though he mostly prefers the outdoors. However, putting clothes on him counts as a workout these days. Feeding him has me in the market for a hazmat suit (thank you New Yorker cartoon for this suggestion) and summoning all my patience convincing myself that he will eventually get it, food is for his own benefit.