Speaking of bananas...
January 11, 2006My son eats three foods. And this is making me insane.
Okay, maybe a little more than three. Here’s the list. Anyone who’s not a parent is signing off right abouuut… now, so without shame I can show the rest of you…
Everything My Son Will Ingest:
Milk and soy milk
Cereal
Oatmeal
Muffins
Yogurt
Blueberries
American cheese
Macaroni and cheese
Ricotta cheese with pasta (but only certain shapes, and those rules change all the time)
Ravioli (sometimes, and you will never know when
Applesauce
Raisins
Hummus (when he’s feeling generous)
All forms of pudding
Ice cream (duh), cookies (dar)
And that’s it! And don’t think I’m forgetting something. “Surely pizza!” you might say, but no, not pizza. “What about bagels? Every kid loves bagels!” Not my kid. Shut up.
I know this is a control thing. I know if I make a big deal, or any kind of deal, over this, it’s only going to get worse. I know many kids go through this. I know he’ll grow out of it, someday, maybe. But right now it makes me nuts at just about every meal. Okay, not breakfast. Breakfast is okay. And for lunch, I’ve just given up—I hand him his two containers of yogurt and I lie down on the ground until he calls for me. So really it’s just dinner.
Last year at Thanksgiving I broke down in tears because he wouldn’t consider a single food. Not a cranberry, not a single chunk of yam. Turkey? HAHAHAHAHA. At some point during his second year he fixated on macaroni and cheese as the Ideal Dinner, and this festive evening was no different. So my sister said, “Just give him macaroni and cheese every night. He’ll get sick of it.”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHhhahhhhhah. Heh. Hmm.
So here we are, over one year later. Every night, either Annie or Amy provides him with his dinner. (I have tried making it myself, but homemade macaroni and cheese was deemed the worst crime any mother could commit.) For a while he would enjoy peas or green beans with it, but no more will he even tolerate the sight of the green horrors. Such an atrocity cannot even remain on his plate.
And fruit! Oh, how he used to love fruit! Clementines and mango and bananas and apples and everything else! Kid liked fruit!
Even a few weeks ago, he would request apples and bananas. Request them! No more. These days, fruit is of the devil. Fruit will not be tolerated. Don’t even think about it, with the fruit. Except blueberries, which are currently $45 a pint. I’m not buying them. Or applesauce, and is that even really a fruit? When a fruit has been sauced, may we still call it fruit?
His pediatrician recommended that we cease commenting on his eating, but that we also make sure that we’re eating well in his presence. Somehow being around a variety of foods, even if he’s not ingesting them, will have an effect. But I do! I do that! She also stressed the importance of the family dinner, and we can’t seem to manage that because my husband for some reason can’t come home at a reasonable hour even when he leaves home early and that’s an entirely different topic that’s making me want to cry every day, but as for me, I eat so well! (At least as far as he knows).
He’ll watch me eating, he’ll cook with me, he’ll smell the food we’re cooking or I’m eating and he’ll exclaim over the wonderfulness of the smells, and like a fool I begin to hope. I let myself believe that maybe he’s interested, that maybe he wants to (I can barely write it) taste something.
And then my mouth starts to open and my brain is screaming SHUT UP SHUT UP DON’T EVEN SAY IT, but I do! Because I’m not smart! I say, “You want a taste?” and then it’s all over. I might as well have suggested that I whip out the kitchen shears and snip off his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut and presses both fists over his mouth and emits the worst sound ever made, a sound I can’t even describe except it makes me want to scoop out my eardrums with a grapefruit spoon rather than hear it for one moment longer.
Everything I read, everything I hear, is telling me to LEAVE HIM ALONE, but I have such a hard time LEAVING HIM ALONE. I don’t even worry that much about the nutritional challenges of his limited diet; we indulge often in smoothies that I pack with all manner of supplementary materials, and/or muffins that are crammed with vegetables and exotic grains. I know he’s getting what he needs. What kills me is that we can’t just eat the same damn dinner. That I can’t share with him food that I know he would like if he would even have a tiny bite. That going to a restaurant is a near impossibility. He won’t even eat the foods that are bad for him, that’s he’s supposed to like! Like French fries! Or grilled cheese! Or those nuggets composed of mashed chicken parts! Or ketchup THE KID WON’T EAT KETCHUP WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM.
Tonight I failed, once again, to leave him alone. I dusted apple slices in cinnamon and sugar and ate them in front of him. He ignored me. I waved the sugary slices in front of his face and made yummy noises, but he continued to pointedly ignore me. Finally I said, “Apples with cinnamon! Mmm! Want a piece! Sure you do!” and he did the clamping-fists-indescribable sound. THEN he demanded “just plain cinnamon.” I refused him this. He immediately dissolved in tears. “Just plain cinnamon! Just plain cinnamon!” he repeated, approximately 57 times. Then I lost it. I explained, at a somewhat (aherm) elevated volume, that I was not going to simply hand him the cinnamon shaker, that if he was going to have a snack, which was by no means required, it was going to have some sort of nutritional aspect to it. Then he cried like I told him his teddy bear was going to Hell. Then he screamed repeatedly, anguished yawps of cinnamon deprivation. And I yelled, because I was trying to provide him with a model of how not to behave. He didn’t seem to get the message, because he yelled back.
Then! Because my mind was still not working right! I launched into a long and convoluted explanation of why he needs to eat nutritious foods, how such foods will make him big and strong. This didn’t work because he informed me that he doesn’t want to ever get big and/or strong. Then the rest of my brain died and I came up with the brilliant idea of a chart! We would make a chart, and every time Henry ate a new food we would put a star on the chart, and when the chart was full Henry would get a toy!
He liked this idea—focusing, as he was, on the word “toy.” We went to the refrigerator. “I’ll have a yogurt,” he said, “then we’ll get a toy.” I explained to him what “new” meant. There were more tears. I tried to take back the chart idea, but he couldn’t let it go. “We’ll have some milk,” he said, “And then, toy.” Once again I explained, no, ha ha, he already drinks milk. How about some black bean soup?
More tears. More attempting to take back the not-very-smart chart idea I had. I tried to get across to him that the chart would not result in instant gratification, that he would need to try 1,2,3,4,5! new foods. Then I said we should forget it and play and LOOK OVER THERE! IS THAT A SUPERHERO IN OUR CURTAINS?
He continued staring into the refrigerator. Finally he said, “I want to try black bean soup. I think it’s going to be,” he squinted, “a little good.”
I attempted to remain calm. I heated a few teaspoons of soup in the smallest bowl we own, and placed it before him. He took a tinier sip than I thought a human being could take, smiled, and said, “Okay, where’s my toy?”
P.S. Apparently this is International De-Lurking Week, and although I am not fond of the term "De-Lurking"--implying, as it does, that you are obligated to comment and if you don't you are creepy--I still like the idea of the Week and it's nice to hear from all of you. So! Say hello, why don't you?
Reader Comments (460)
Just a lurker, not a stalker, but I so love your writing and totally warped humor. Keep up the good work!
The not being able to go out to eat, that would be a problem in my family. I say take a container of Macaroni and Cheese with you, then smile and tell the waitress he's horribly allergic to everything so you have to bring his food from home.
I guess this is just my way of saying it does get better. But little boys are stubborn as hell.
I'm sure there's a 5-stage process, just like there is for grief, when it comes to dealing with the food-averse child. Like, Denial and Anger make sense, even Bargaining, but instead of Depression there's "Fantasies of my child living life as a freak" and such.
Anyway, I am (more or less) free of the associated angst, these days. He picks breakfast, lunch is negotiated and agreed upon, and I cook a well-balanced dinner. He doesn't eat dinner... I want to say, 5 out of 7 nights a week. Oh well. Hasn't died yet. Tastes new foods on occasion. Often whines. I repeat: Oh well.
All of which is a long-winded way of saying, I feel your pain.
Also had to comment on: "my husband for some reason can’t come home at a reasonable hour even when he leaves home early". What is up with that? My husband does the same damn thing. Bugs the crap out of me.
3 things that have kept me sane in recent months:1. I went to a talk by a nutritionist who said forget about food groups, there are 2 kinds of food -- food that is good for you and helps you grow, vs. food that is just for fun. So at snacktime, if child wants goldfish crackers, you say "OK, here are some apple slices and here is a (tiny) bowl of goldfish crackers." When the crackers run out and they want more, you say, "sorry, goldfish crackers are just for fun, but you can have more apple if you like because that is a food that is good for you," etc. When they cry and fuss, you say, "That's what we're having for snack, if you don't want to eat any it's your choice." Then when they are starving before next meal, you (emotionlessly, ha!) say, "Ooh, that's too bad. Remember how you chose not to eat any snack? Well, that's probably why you're hungry now. Dinner will be in 10 minutes."
2. Idea in a NYT column a year ago that cave-toddlers at this age would be out foraging in the woods (because we would all have new babies by now and have weaned them), so their reliance on foods that are bland, white, and starchy is actually self protection against poisoning. This explains some of the suspicion and weirdness.
3. One book, "Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Sense," by Ellyn Satter, who is both a nutritionist and psychotherapist specializing in food issues. (www.ellynsatter.com) I have her Division of Responsibility posted on my fridge ... basically that the parent is responsible for the what, where, and when of offering food, and it is TOTALLY up to the child to decide whether they eat and how much.
Finally, I see a lot of children with really serious eating problems in the course of work/school and have to tell you that Henry sounds totally healthy and typical for age. But also that it is easy to turn food into this really weird fight for independence on the part of the child (he is colonial America and you are bad King George). So if you can, just walk away. Can you make your husband in charge of meals for a weekend or something? (even if you cook it the night before out of Henry's sight and your husband just heats it up). It would be nice to take a break from the issue. And might help your husband understand what you're dealing with right now.
I am not exactly delurking since have posted once or twice before, mainly to ask -- and I'll ask again -- why the name Finslippy? :)
Cross your fingers and sit on your hands and all will be well, I promise!
And if not, then send me over the black bean soup with cinammon....
Minerva
You could try reading this book. My kids demand it every night: Eat Healthy, Feel Great! It has a sorta-silly red/yellow/green light food theme, but it helped us come up with a language the kiddos understand re: healthy food.
I have been hooked on your site ever since the bit about thirty-year-old Henry crapping his overalls. You rock.
Just wanted to share my recent discovery of FROZEN fruit--hidden in the nether regions of your local frozen food department--where frozen blueberries (even fancy organic ones) live on the cheap. We're talkin' $3.50 for an endless bag. Sheesh.
I have no children, but I am a "fearful" eater myself. My diet today consisted of the NYT recipe for crusty macaroni and cheese. And a latte. I'm ill, greasy and spent. How does Henry do it? You're fightin' the good fight though, lady. Keep the home fires burning. He's bound to crack. There's only so much mac and cheese a soldier can take.
About eating habits...this may end up long and involved, so I'll get to my point. Ignore the advice you are getting...make him eat what you're eating! Do NOT bend to his whims.
Before anyone flames me, let me explain why I am the voice of experience. I WAS your kid, and my pediatrician told my mom not to make a deal of it, my eating habits would pick up blah blah blah. I am 27 years old and they NEVER did.
Food is the bane of my existence. Because of my extreme pickiness, I am the person who limits where my friends can have dinner, and I actually end up having anxiety attacks when I am invited over to people's houses for dinner because of all my stupid dietary bull shit. My weight has become a problem because most of the foods I eat fall into the sugary/salty taste groups.
And believe me when I tell you that after convincing yourself for more than 20 years that you DON"T LIKE something, trying to force myself to eat it is next to impossible. To the point where, literally, I will throw it up after forcing myself to eat it (I don't make myself throw up, my throat gets tight, then my stomach feels weird and then I throw up...completely pyschosomatic).
My mom had wanted to make me eat what the family was eating. Put it in front of me and tell me that it was what I was getting, and I could choose to eat it or not, end of story. In all honesty I might have held out for a few meals, but I would've eventually caved. Missing a few meals out of stubborness won't kill him. And if you get worried you can include something you KNOW he'll eat just to make sure.
Seriously, this is the approach that I feel compelled to use with my children. Food is really a huge deal...I have a hard time enjoying eating since I end up having so much anxiety. I can't bring myself to try new things. I have ended up in tears no few times because of how hard it all is.
Good luck and whatever you do, go with YOUR gut, not what an "expert" says.
I'm impressed Henry will eat Ricotta cheese with his pasta. That is a very diverse eating habit by my children's standards.
WHY do the pasta shape requirements change all the time? It happens here too and it's driving me insane.
Ha ha, I'm so literal.
My three year old has random days of pickiness. Other days he'll eat anything he lays his eyes on, including large chunks of wasabi (not once, but twice! You'd think once would be enough to learn 'im). Our main issue is usually not food, but sleep. Every kid has their own particular method of making their parents mental. Take heart, soon Henry will be doing something entirely new and exciting to bring you to the brink of insanity, and you can rest easy about the food stuff.
Also, on family meals: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Does anyone really manage this on a consistent basis? My kids and I eat around 5:30 (so there's time for a bath and playtime before bed), and my husband generally shows up as I'm clearing the detritus from the table/highchair/floor/kids' hair. I think he does it on purpose so he doesn't have to deal with the Gong Show that is our mealtime.
Hello!
But I will not say it if you give me fruit.
And if you're really worried, toss him a vitamin once in a while.