Planting Carrots - the results

I checked Jack's pockets when he got home from his outing with grandpa.  Sure enough - there were still some gummy bears left, and the healthy crackers were gone.  I have a feeling that the candy was only left behind because he couldn't dig that far in his pockets.  Poppa leaves today, so detox begins tomorrow.

Banana Cream Pie

You know, for infants.  In a quest to get Jack to eat more protein, and Grace to enjoy some foods I've started making hard boiled eggs.  Jack likes the outside whites.  He wasn't interested until I showed him Magic Egg Balls.  He's always enjoyed scrambling eggs, and likes watching me crack them. So, he was surprised to see me crack an egg on the table, and not have it pour all over.  Now he likes to crack them, peel them and eat the whites.  He is not a fan of yellow, which is great because yolk is a perfect first food for an infant.  Lots of Omega-3, cholesterol and calories.  Perfect for our little princess.  So now Grace is eating Banana Cream Pie.  

1 Egg Yolk

1/3 Ripe Banana

Formula or Breast Milk

Mash together the yolk and banana, add enough milk to make it nice an creamy.  Grace seems to be a fan of this one...

Grace Meets Solids

When Jack started eating solids at 6 months he loved it.  He wasn't much of a talker, but even at that age, and even eating boring rice cereal he was a jubilant eater.  With every spoon he would ooh and ahh, he was Pavlovian in his responses.  He would see me pull down a ramekin, knowing that's what I mixed his food and begin flapping his arms like chicken wings.

Grace, not so enthusiastic.  It's so important to me that she have the same gusto for food, and everything I have offered her has been met with less than excited responses. I'm concerned she is already tainted.  

As an infant she had the dreaded acid reflux.  Years ago they considered this Colic, and mothers just toughed it out.  Now, because they can put a label on it, we can try to fix it.  I'll go into depth in another post about our reflux journey.  But, after restriction diets, lactations consultants and hours of tears, I finally put Grace on medication.  Baby Prilosec she got twice a day through a dropper, she was my little hampster.  I would take out the syringe, pull out the grape flavored medicine and she would lap it up.  So, nothing I make her will ever taste so powerful, so sweet as that medicine.     

There are a million opinions out there about what should be first foods to introduce.  Some say only rice cereal because its BLAND and EASY to digest.  Some say NEVER rice cereal because its BLAND and HARD.  Some say only vegetables so they don't get a sweet tooth.  I say, ease up - no big deal.  Your only feeding them a few tablespoons - give them whatever you want.  

So, I'll start cataloging the food combos and she's tried and how she's reacted.  I was so cocky with Jack - giving advice to parents with problem eaters, and wondering why they had a problem.  Now I know, we'll see if I can change it.  

Planting Carrots

I sent Jack and Poppa John out the door today with an experiment.  I packed one pocket with carrots and wheat crackers, and allowed his free pocket for Poppa John snacks.   He's had a week of Poppa John, is he already hooked?  Will he eat any of my food, will he only eat candy?  Lets see...

In Case of a Snow Storm

My parents are visiting.  And my father is notorious for his sweet tooth.  He's where I got mine.  I thought the amount of sugar we ate was normal growing up, until I went out in the world and realized not every family had candy drawers in every room.  When I visit home I like to play a little game.  I try to find a place in the house that is the furthest amount of steps away from something sweet.  3 steps to the bowl of jelly beans, 5 steps from the jar of mini Snickers, and then the goldmine drawer with a stash of marshmallow Peeps.  

When you have such a powerful tooth; however, you need to consume sugar on the road.  So before my father goes out for a hike, or gets in the truck for a trip to town he fills his pockets, "You know, in case we get stuck in a snow storm."  That's important in Wyoming when the winds can bring a storm out of nowhere in January.  Not as likely while visiting us in Sausalito in March.  But still.

I learned from my dad, but I like to think I've evolved from his selections.  Before we head out to play, I always make sure we have provisions: some cheese, an apple, oatmeal raisin cookies, oranges.  You know, sensible mom snacks.  Fuel.  It only took my father being in town  1/2 an hour before he was calling Jack over to his stash.  We were headed out to the park, and my dad started corrupting him.  "Come here kid, got something to show you."  Jack, ever obedient went over to my dad to investigate.  "You got pockets?  Good, open up."  

And this is where we pause, to debate how best to address this moment.  Ignore? Encourage? Run screaming, "NOOOO" as I dive Charlie's Angels-esque to protect my son from the gummy worms and m&m's I know lurk in that bag?  

I love sugar myself, I'm incredibly indulgent with it.  I allow Jack to eat sugar because I believe forbidding it is dangerous.  We eat plenty of dessert.  BUT, and here's the big BUT. I am picky about how and when he gets that sugar.  We eat dessert after a good dinner.  I try not to use candy as a leverage for good behavior.  And, we don't eat a lot of what I would consider JUNK sugar.  If we are eating candy, it better be good.  It should be delicious.  We don't waste it on wax and corn syrup. (Unless we are on the last leg of the long road trip and the Seven Eleven is our only hope of survival) Oh Lord.  We'll get back to all that later.  Back to the story.

I choose my usual default when faced by similar situations:  Look at my mother, roll my eyes and say, "This is going to end very badly for me.  When you two leave, I'll have to take him to detox."  Because I really parent most often through passivity, procrastination, and blaming my parents for the way my kids are turning out.  It seems to work for me.  

So, out the door we trudge.  Jack barely able to make it through the door as his shorts are falling down around his knees. His pockets are weighted down with licorice, gummy fruit and M&M's.  

We walk about a block, and my dad teaches Jack how to start using his candy as he walks.  "Jack, time for some fuel."  He pulls out a licorice rope and says, "See, get something out of your pocket."  Jack, as always is obedient, and as he pops a few M&M's I see his face change.  He hasn't seen my father in over a hear, but my dad has completely won him over.  Poppa John is his hero. 

So, I decide to watch.  I would say I was observing to see how Jack would react, like I'm doing clinical research on kids and food.  But really, I just don't want to start a fight with my dad his first day here.  And little Jack surprises me.  While we are at the park he follows my dad's lead, and stops occasionally for "fuel", but he's more interested in making my mother kick the ball, or watching his shadow to size up his swing with the ball.  And when we get home that night, I check his pockets while he gets on his PJs.  Like a good picky eater, he didn't finish his plate - or that is his pockets - I find a few smashed M&M's.   While I basked in the glow of this tiny victory I was reminded that I"m the one with the problem.  I ate the m&m's.  Shit.

Good Eaters vs. Picky Eaters

Jack's a good eater, all the moms say so.  For a 3-year old, that's high praise.  It's more impressive than proper aim during potty training.  It ranks right up there with toddlers who can spell their names, or will share a toy without being forced.  It doesn't rank as high as the 3-year old piano virtuosos, or the ones that never cry, but still its pretty spectacular.  When moms tell me he's a good eater I nod and say, "Yes, thanks.  We're very proud, he's always been that way."  I try to sound casual in my response, but it's like they've just told me, "My God, your son is amazing!  You must be an exceptional mother."  Really, it feels that good.

Because a 3-year old boy who is a good eater is a rarity, a real gem in the preschool set.  But how exactly did he get there? And more important, as we enter preschool how do we STAY here?  Now that his sister, Grace, is starting solids I thought I would chronicle the rise of a Good Eater.

But ouch...I hate that term.  Maybe because there are so many overweight, undernourished kids out there, or it just conjures some patronizing images.  If I put a mound of salty, greasy fries and nasty cookies in front of a child, and he gobbles it all down do I call him a "Good Eater"?  How good is that really?  When it comes to that, I'd prefer a Picky Eater.  

The archetype of a Good Eater is one who eats whatever he is given, finishes his plate, and doesn't grind his broccoli into the carpet.  A Picky Eater has a limited, often mysteriously chosen palate of foods he will eat.  If he eats at all.  But there are aspects of picky eating that should be praised.  Picky Eaters know what they like, and what they don't.  Picky Eaters don't just eat whatever they are given, they stop eating when they are fill, not when the plate is empty.  Frankly, we could use a few more Picky Eaters out there.  I'm not talking about the kind of Picky Eaters who only eat things that are white, or things that come in a bag, but the kind of Picky Eater who makes good choices about what to put in their bodies.  That's not a Bad Picky.  That's Good Picky.

So, here we go friends and neighbors.  I want to compile all the resources I can find to raise more Good Picky Eaters.