Freed From Food Fights

I was the world’s pickiest eater.

For years, all I wanted was cereal, pasta, bread, cake, muffins, croissants… Anything bready, and I wanted it. Even better if it was bready AND sweet.

My mother watched in despair (and amazement) as I somehow managed to grow without seeming to eat a single vegetable. That all changed, however, when I went to boarding school at age 14.

Faced with how gross the food was at school, I suddenly realized how good I had had it at home. I returned after my first semester away and would eat anything. (Or, at least almost anything.)

I am happy to report that I now enjoy a varied and balanced diet (though I still have a weak spot for all things bread…).

What Goes Around…

I can only imagine my mother’s smug reaction to the fact that the Bear (our second son) is just such another picky eater.

He would forgo all vegetables, and even most fruit if he could. Like his mother before him, it seems he would happily live on bread alone.

Following my mother’s approach with me, we instituted a “one bite of everything” rule. That has always worked remarkably well for the Bug, and we figured that way at least the Bear would get the occasional vegetable.

Oh, how wrong we were!

What works for one child, does not always work for another.

Dinnertime became a battle of wills. At first, hearing what was for dinner would make him cry. Eventually, just hearing the call of, “Dinner time!” was enough to set off tears.

It was a battle to get him to the table. It was a battle to get him to eat even one bite of each thing.

Finally, it came down to his choice: calm down and take one bite of everything, or go to bed. He would usually calm down and sniffle through the meal, but it made dinner time (and even lunchtime) stressful and unpleasant.

The Breaking Point

Things finally came to a head one evening. The Bear had been particularly threenager-ish all day, and when I called down to the playroom: “Dinner time!” a howl emerged from the basement.

The wailing mounted the stairs and burst forth through the basement door as his tear-streaked face came into view. We wrestled him to the bathroom to wash his hands, and got him to his chair.

When we were finally gathered at the table, he was given his usual choice: calm down and take one bite of everything, or go to bed.

He threw down his fork and screamed.

I snapped.

I jumped up from my chair, swiftly (but calmly) rounded the table, scooped him up and whisked him upstairs. I bathed him (by which time he had calmed down), got him ready, read him his story and put him to bed.

The following morning, what he hadn’t eaten at dinner was on his breakfast plate.

There were a few quiet tears, but he had understood the point and quickly took one bite of each before having his breakfast.

Then, Relief Came

I was fed up, and in my frustration I vented on a Facebook group. I got lots of sympathy, but then, relief. A friend shared with me the Ellyn Satter Institute Division of Responsibility in Feeding.

This. Was. A. Game. Changer.

The basic premise is this: parents are responsible for what, when and where to eat. Children are responsible for whether and how much to eat.

From the Ellyn Satter Institute website

Important to the process is establishing regular meal and snack times, and not letting children eat between meals.

Luckily, we’ve tended to do this anyway: we sit down together at table to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner. Snack times are mid-morning and mid-afternoon. I have a pet peeve about crumbs on furniture, so we’ve never let the kids eat anywhere but sitting at the table. That’s a firm family rule.

With that already established, putting this into practice was relatively easy. Chico and I talked about it, read through the materials on the website, and agreed to give it a try. Anything had to be better than what we were dealing with now.

Freed From Food Fights

What a relief to be freed from the responsibility of making my child eat!

The first time we sat down to dinner after reading about the Division of Responsibility in Feeding, we made a quick announcement:

“Boys, Mamá and Papá will give you food at mealtimes. We’ll decide what to give you and when. But you guys will decide whether you want to eat it, and how much you eat. All we want is for us to sit together and have a nice time as a family.”

There was a little complaining at first, but as soon as they realized they could choose to NOT eat certain things, the fussing stopped. We try to make sure there’s at least something on the table that they’ll like, but we don’t cater exclusively to their tastes, or make a separate meal for them.

Oftentimes, the Bear has nothing more than a glass of milk and a slice of buttered bread for dinner. It’s hard to take. But we’re working on trusting him to eat as much as he needs to, and on the whole mealtimes have been SO MUCH BETTER.

Pleasant Mealtimes

Now, we spend our mealtimes talking and laughing. Instead of nagging and arguing, we’re listening and chatting. We’ll talk about our days, talk about our plans for the days ahead, and just enjoy time together.

It’s just so freeing. Old habits die hard, and I do sometimes slip back into the occasional nag. But Chico and I encourage each other, and it’s so much better than it was.

According to the Ellyn Satter Institute, following this method will teach children by example how to eat a variety of foods. She does say it can take years, and sometimes it feels like it will never happen for our Bear.

But we must have faith and persevere. As long as mealtimes are a joyful time that we spend together, we’ve got to be doing something right.

Right?

All Too Fast

Last week, the Bear made two decisions.

At the ripe old age of nearly three-and-a-half, he decided:

  1. He’s “all done” with naps.
  2. He no longer sucks his thumb.

These are both Good Things and Important Developments in the life of our child, and we are Very Proud of him for making these big-boy decisions all on his own.

And yet…

It’s Too SOOOOOOOOON!!!

I know, I know. This is a very normal age for both of these things to happen.

And yet, I saw them both go with a pang of regret.

(Honestly, I miss his having a nap because it used to give me a nice break in the middle of the day!)

Seeing these last two holdovers from his babyhood and toddlerhood go, I did have a moment of sadness realizing that our baby is a baby no longer.

Impressed

Mostly, I have to admit, I am impressed by his willpower. He told me he wouldn’t suck his thumb anymore, and he hasn’t.

Done. Finito. Se acabó.

For the Bear to suddenly “switch off” a habit that has been so reflexive for so long is seriously impressive.

(This is the child we saw sucking his thumb in the womb on an ultrasound.)

Maybe he’s just grown out of it and doesn’t need it anymore. Maybe he’ll pick it up again. Who knows?

I’m Not Ready

The long and the short of it is that I’M NOT READY!

He’s growing so quickly! Both our boys are practically giants, but because the Bear is the younger of the two I guess I feel it more keenly.

I can see why people decide to have a third, or even a fourth child. It’s a bittersweet moment for a parent when you realize they’re growing out of their childhood habits.

Luckily, there is so much joy to look forward to that the sad pang doesn’t last long.

4_great_reasons_to_take_kids_outside

A Quick Reminder

When our Bug was little, I wrote an article about not talking about your kids.

Not because it’s annoying to other people (alright, a little bit because of that). But mostly because our kids are people whose privacy should be respected.

Today, I was reminded why I wrote that article.

Old Habits

I still slip into the bad habit of talking about my kids. The other day, I even went so far as to talk about them in front of them.

It makes me cringe to think about it. Our oldest is smart and observant, and he listened as I compared and contrasted him with his brother.

How was he not going to notice? I’m ashamed of myself.

The Consequences

So today, I shouldn’t have been baffled when the Bug did his best to live up to the picture I had painted of him earlier in the week.

We were having a social-distanced get-together for ice cream with distant relatives, some of whom we’d never met.

Suddenly, our Bug was behaving totally uncharacteristically. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

He Explains

When we got home, he was still behaving strangely. He looked up at me with his big beautiful eyes and said, “Mama, I’m shy.”

At first I was miffed. But then I remembered the conversation he had overheard earlier in the week.

That’s when I realized that his weird behavior was on me.

All he wanted to do was try and live up to the description he had overheard me give of him. He’s a sensitive and sweet boy; of course he wants to conform to what he thinks his mama wants from him.

So Zip Up, Mama.

It killed me to see my son try and fit himself into a mould I’d made for him. A mould that, though perhaps true in some ways and at some moments, was too simplistic to be accurate.

It’s the same lesson I keep thinking I’ve learned: Zip it, lady. Stop it. Just don’t talk about your kids.

But I can talk with my kids. And in the morning, I think the first thing I need to say to my son is, “I owe you an apology.”

Power Trippin’ No

50. Just Say No: Write about the power you felt when you told someone no.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

“No.”

Such a tiny little word, and yet! And yet how powerful!

I’ve come up with lots of different ways to say “no” these days. As a mom, I think it’s important to have a variety of ways to destroy your child’s happiness.

“Now’s not the time, love.”
“Not likely.”
“Never in a million years.”
“Heck no!”
“What, do you think I’m stupid or something?”
“Ix-nay.”
“Let’s all have a big tall glass of nope.”

It feels like I have a whole arsenal of “no” weapons, ready at a moment’s notice!

A Bit Carried Away

At one point, though, I realized that perhaps it was getting a bit excessive.

This dawned on me when my three-year-old threw himself on the floor and screamed when I told him, “No, you can’t play the piano.”

That’s normal, you think. Any three-year-old would throw a fit about something like that.

True, but hear me out.

I have fairly high noise tolerance. This piano has survived lessons from four kids: it’s not like it’s delicate. My kids aren’t that rough. We had just finished one activity and hadn’t yet moved on to another. He had washed his hands and everything.

Could It Be That…

Perhaps I was saying “no” too much??

But how can that be?! I must be FIRM with my children! They can’t have everything they want!

This is true. They cannot have everything they want. But not everything has to be a battle. After all, we got the piano for the kids to enjoy!

So after watching him scream for a minute, I thought to myself, “Do I really care enough about this situation to worry about seeming inconsistent if I change my mind?”

The answer was (you guessed it!), NO. No, I didn’t care that much.

“You know what, love? Why not? Of course you can play the piano. Go ahead.”

Picking Your Battles

His face immediately cleared, and he clambered up onto the piano stool and started plonking away. He didn’t last long, and soon became interested in his trains.

Noise gone. Happy child. Happy mother.

That was a battle that didn’t need to happen. Others definitely need to happen (like reasonable bedtime, brushing your teeth and OMG STOP EATING TOOTHPASTE HOW DID YOU FIND IT GAAAAAAH).

But when we’re all cooped up at home together, and things are tough enough as it is, picking your battles is an important skill to learn.

It’s also good to realize that sometimes…

“Yes” Is Powerful, Too

(Or, if “yes” feels too permissive, try, “What the heck? Knock yourself out, kid.”)

Cake Exhaustion

I’m too tired to write.

Why? Because I decorated a cake today.

And then ate too much of it.

Our Bear turned three today, and BOY is he three. You know. A threenager. He’s adorable, hilarious, fun, funny and EXHAUSTING.

He requested a Thomas-themed birthday with a “Thomas cake.” Luckily, what a “Thomas cake” actually was was up to me.

Inspired

I wanted my cake to look like this beaut’ from Living Well Mom:

What I got was this:

Two things are evident here:

  1. My phone is old and the camera is crap;
  2. My cake decorating skills are not as good as Living Well Mom’s.

Here’s another view for good measure:

The Reception

“It’s Thomas!” he shouted as I approached with the cake. He was delighted.

But then he realized that the Thomas on the cake was actually his toy mini Thomas (thoroughly washed before being placed on the cake). And he was none too pleased about that.

Here he is, removing Thomas from the cake:

The cake was delicious. The buttercream frosting was particularly tasty.

(It helped that the cake was the devil’s food cake box from Betty Crocker. Hey, my time and effort went into the decorating, NOT the baking.)

Happy birthday to our little man. Here’s to another waltz around the sun with you.

What’s For Dinner?

This is Day 5 in a series of essays based on a writing prompt. I never thought I’d keep it up this long…

5. Food: What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

“Mama! What’s for breakfast?”

“Mama, what are we having for lunch?”

“Mama, I don’t want that for dinner! I hate that!”

“Mama, we had this yesterday.”

“Mama this is yucky.”

“Mama, you KNOW I don’t like scrambled eggs!”

“Mama, why don’t you EVER make ANYTHING I like?!”

“Mama, but it’s green!”

“Mama, it’s gone mushy.”

“Mama! I dropped some!”

“Mama, it’s on the floor.”

“Mama, can I put ketchup on it?”

“Mama! Can I have bread? With butter on it?”

“MAMA! I WON’T EAT IT!”

*Gagging sounds*

“Mama… It came back up…”


Mi amor, it’s absolutely delicious. Gracias.

Sigh

Let’s be Honest: Parenting is Tedious

Yeah, I said it!

PARENTING IS TEDIOUS!

C’mon, you all know it’s true. Yes, we adore our children. Yes, we share precious, unforgettable moments with them.

But let’s be real: those precious moments are balanced by an equal number of mind-numbingly dull interactions.

Most of our time as parents is taken up with negotiating somewhat healthy food into our children’s mouths, cleaning up after them and listening to them tell long, rambling stories that MAKE NO SENSE and HAVE NO POINT.

*Sigh*

Endless Needs

As a very wise (and honest) friend once said to me, the tedium of parenting comes from endless kids’ needs coming before our own.

As parents, we have to prioritize the survival of our children: clothing, feeding and getting them to school/daycare. Or just getting them through the day.

As a result, our needs come second (if at all).

I really admire those parents who can continue with their pre-kids activities with apparently as much dedication as ever. In my experience, while some things must continue (work, for instance), something always must give way in the face of our children’s needs.

I guess that is the sacrifice of parenthood.

Guilt Again…

In our family, we have each given up something in the face of parenthood. In my Chico’s case, it’s doing the sports he loves. For me, it’s been a career.

This is where the Mom-Guilt-Monster raises its ugly head.

I think: but if we don’t model self care and prioritizing of our interests to our children, how will they learn to take proper care of themselves?

I haven’t figured it out yet but I’m hoping we’ll all learn to strike a balance.

And in any case, even if we think we have everything right and we’re doing everything perfectly, I bet you our kids will grow up to complain to their therapists about us, anyway. Ha!

Picture Day Pitfalls

Last week we saw the poster up on the front door at school and got the flyers in our cubbies:

Picture day! Hooray!

The Bug and the Bear were pretty excited, and we went clothes shopping on Friday afternoon.

We picked some cute plaid shirts, some nice trousers, and the boys got to choose some fun items, too.

We have a rule in our house. The boys choose their clothes on a daily basis. I only require that they dress appropriately for the weather, but then they have full autonomy.

However, on special occasions, Mama gets to choose.

Since they usually get to pick, I rarely run into problems when it comes to special occasion dressing.

Normally, I give them a choice on those occasions. We’ll lay out some nice shirts and trousers for them to pick from.

For Picture Day, however, I was adamant. Bug was to wear his lederhosen.

Yes, lederhosen!

They’re beautiful, green leather, Bavarian lederhosen. They fit him perfectly, and come with a sweet coordinated plaid shirt embroidered with edelweiss.

For the Bear, we put him in a little Bavarian checked button-down shirt with a jaunty boiled-wool hat given to him by his aunt and uncle.

They look so handsome. Their shirts are pressed, their hair is combed… But then…

Remember, everyone:

NEVER EVER LET YOUR CHILDREN EAT THEIR BREAKFAST IN THEIR PICTURE DAY CLOTHES.

Or, if you do, don’t serve scones with strawberry jam.

lonely-in-the-playground

Lonely at the Playground

How often do you see parents reading at the playground anymore? Or chatting amongst themselves? Or even looking at their phones?

Not much, I’d guess.

I’ve spent a few months in the US, and the experience of going to the playground is entirely different here.

In Germany, parents would congregate in one area of the playground. Grownups would stand around chatting with each other, occasionally helping a child out, kissing a booboo or intervening when children’s interactions came to tears.

Otherwise, though, parents mainly talked amongst themselves, leaving the kids to do their thing.

Here, it’s completely different.

In the last few months of visiting various playgrounds in our new town, the only parents I have chatted with have been almost exclusively Germans. I’ve only had a nice conversation with one American Mom.

Most of the time I find myself sitting on a bench by myself, watching my kids play.

The other day, I realized what’s happening.

Parents aren’t interacting with each other because they’re too busy entertaining their kids.

Longing for playground socializing

As a newcomer to the area, I thought taking my kids to the playground would be a great way to meet other parents. Not so.

Small chats do happen, and people aren’t unfriendly. But most folks are so busy with their kids that they won’t stop long to talk.

At first it made me wonder if I was doing something wrong or somehow neglecting my children. Then I looked around and spotted my boys, one happily playing on the slides, another dangling upside-down from the monkey bars. They were fine.

They didn’t want or need me to entertain them. And frankly, I wasn’t much interested in the monkey bars.

So now I bring my book

Perhaps it makes me look antisocial, sitting there reading. I try to glance up regularly to look around and see if there are any other parents hankering for a good old-fashioned playground chat.

If you see me reading at the playground, don’t worry about interrupting. Chances are, I’d welcome the opportunity to meet someone new.

Lessons My Kids Teach Me

Three times in the last month, my Bug has had a major freak out over a minor boo-boo.

The first time, he completely lost it and went into full-on meltdown mode when I tried to clip his toenails. Normally, this is a non-issue. He’s fine with it. But this time he freaked out, started screaming, crying, howling and kicking his legs around.

The second time, a large scab on his knee came part-way off and was tugging and pulling uncomfortably. We sat down for me to look at it. When I told him I needed to cut it off so that it wouldn’t hurt him, he completely lost it.

Today was the latest episode. He got a splinter in his hand. He trustingly gave me his hand to look at. When I told him that I would have to take it out, he balled his hand into a fist, snatched it towards his chest, burst into tears and wouldn’t let me near it.

He was paralyzed by the idea of being hurt.

Of course, there’s not much I can do in these situations. Either I wait for him to calm down (which takes forever, if he does at all), or I would have to hog-tie him and pin him down in order to do what needs to be done. Not an option, as it’s probably illegal.

As you can imagine, these incidents are intense, frustrating, and pretty traumatizing for both of us. And even though I try to stay calm myself, I feel rage building inside me the longer his freakout lasts.

And then, just like that, it’s over! The splinter is out, the scab is removed, the toenails are cut–all painlessly.

Someone throws a switch in his brain and he’s suddenly back to being 100% fine. Yes, there are tear tracks down his face, but he’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The child that moments ago was shrieking bloody murder is now gazing at me peacefully, a big relieved grin on his face.

But I’m still mad.

I cannot throw that switch and suddenly go back to all-fine-mode. I’m angry that he nearly burst my eardrum with his shrieking. I’m mad that he didn’t trust me not to hurt him. I’m ticked off that something so simple has become such a drama.

But he remembers none of that. He has moved on to his next moment. Probably a cool leaf, a comic book, or a funny fart noise.

Do all children live so totally in the moment? Or is it just mine? And how can I learn to do that?

How can I learn to let the frustration, the anger and the stress melt away to nothing? To move on so quickly to happier thoughts?

Is my inability to do this part and parcel of being a grownup? Is it some of the magic of childhood that we adults lose?

Or maybe, just maybe, I can learn to do as he does with practice. Maybe I can learn to take a deep breath, look back into his enormous, teal-green eyes and see that the bad moment has passed.

A good one has begun.