Monthly Archives: August 2011

August 17, 2011 · 4:43 pm

Fear and Love and Food

I did something big yesterday.  Really big.  I told Dylan that it broke my heart that his fear of food kept him from being happy.  I cried real tears.  I told him he could no longer eat macaroni & cheese at every meal (and pout at school, birthday parties and restaurants when faced with what he refers to as “new” food).  I told him I would prepare meals and he could choose to eat them or not, but if he choose not to eat the protein on the plate, there would be no more food (i.e. snacks) served until the next meal, or in the case of dinner, until the next morning.

(In case you’re wondering, I included Riley in this new meal plan because even though he is a much better eater than his older brother, I see how Dylan’s food issues are rubbing off on him.)

This is the revolting dinner I presented to the boys:
 Organic breaded and baked chicken (from Yummy In My Tummy…they ship!), turkey roll-up, fresh strawberries and grapes, whole grain crackers and a cheese stick.  Also, carrots and celery sticks with a homemade ranch dip with hidden pureed white beans (from the Deceptively Delicious cookbook).

This new “eat your dinner or the kitchen’s closed” approach is quite a departure for me.  I’ve written about Dylan’s food issues before, and it’s no secret that I dread this method.  How can such a punitive approach have a positive outcome?  But I’ve tried everything, and there is no game, negotiation, bribe, reward or plea that will get this kid to budge on food.  At this point, his food choices (or lack of) and his age (he’ll be five in a few months) have put me in a panic.  The older he gets, the less I’ll be able to save him (i.e. enable him) with a bag full of “just in case” snacks.

When your kid is nearing four and still isn’t potty trained, everyone says, “Don’t worry, he won’t be wearing a diaper at his wedding.”  People have said this to me about food, too.  “Don’t worry, he won’t be a grown man who only eats…fill in the blank.”  Well, I’m starting to wonder.

Did I cause this food mess, or is it just Dylan’s personality and temperament that has brought him to this place?  I was once a picky eater, but never like this.  I have so many food memories – my mom’s spaghetti and meatballs, my dad’s Sunday morning pancakes, sandy peanut butter and “fluff” sandwiches and Oreo cookies at the beach, Carnegie Deli cheesecake at my wedding, the decadent meals Mike cooked for me in graduate school and the not-very-decadent (or tasty, for that matter) meals I attempted to cook for him.

It was actually through my relationship with Mike that I learned to love food and cook it, too.  Sushi.  Meat cooked seared and rare.  Homemade vanilla ice cream! If I were stranded on a deserted island, I would dream of tuna melts, roasted Brussels sprouts and dancing eel rolls.  I’ll never forget Saturday mornings at the Grand Army Plaza farmers market in Brooklyn drinking warm apple cider, eating vegan/dairy-free/gluten-free zucchini muffins, tasting local cheese and buying fresh leafy greens to cook for dinner.  I dream of “food-cations” in exotic locales. I organize my life around when and what I will eat.  How could I possibly be the parent of this precious child who is terrified of food?

This feels like a parenting failure of epic proportions, and I’m eternally grateful for family and good friends who listen, encourage and love and remind me that I’m a good Mama.
Dylan ate nothing for dinner…not even the crackers.  But at least he stopped pouting after an hour.  Riley cried and begged for more cheese sticks but I held my ground.  I gave him nothing until he ate his turkey.  After that, he ate one and a half more cheese sticks and donated the remaining half to Harry.  At least my kids are charitable.
I’ve opened a can of beans (pun intended) that I can’t close.  Wish me luck on this journey to help my boys fall in love with food.

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Filed under food issues

August 15, 2011 · 1:11 pm

Bon appetit!

I would have posted this sooner, but my computer access was limited on vacation.  Also, I’ve been recovering from several consecutive dinners at restaurants with my two adorable but occasionally horribly behaved children.

When you’re engaged, all you see are brides. When you’re pregnant, all you see are pregnant women (and babies and strollers and car seats and diaper bags…).  Ironically, when you have two kids who are despicably behaved in restaurants (i.e. they’re loud and whiny, irritate nearby diners, refuse to eat anything, won’t sit down in their chairs and won’t let you sit down in your chair for one freakin’ minute to take a bite of food or a precious gulp of wine), all you see are well-behaved children sitting nicely, talking quietly and eating chicken.

You resign yourself to the fact that you’ve somehow spoiled your children and failed miserably as a parent (or at least in the how-to-behave-in-a-restaurant department), and you won’t ever be able to take them out to eat unless they’re sedated or 30-something years old (perhaps with their own naughty little children!).

The day after a particularly disastrous outing, you climb the stairs of the poolside eatery to go to the bathroom and pass a table where a family with young children like yours is eating lunch.  (You have fed your kids poolside on this day to keep your head from exploding…again.) 

You can’t help but overhear the mother say, “Enough! There are other people here trying to eat,” and then, “Sit down!” and then, “Cut it out or we’re leaving.”  You smile briefly at the mother.  She probably feels embarrassed or thinks you feel bad for her, but actually, you want to wrap your arms around her in a big bear hug and say thank you.  

As you continue toward the bathroom, the tension between your shoulders releases a little bit and a smile spreads across your face when you realize – at least for a fleeting moment – that you are one of many mothers with small children who turn into baboons when they cross the threshold of any restaurant, bistro or café.  You also remember you have a babysitter coming that evening to watch the kids so you can have a peaceful dinner surrounded by adults.  Most likely, all you will notice at the restaurant that evening are ill-behaved children and mothers (and maybe some fathers) with exploding heads.  

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Filed under eating out, parenting, vacation