whacky foods and bad parenting…


Ah humble beginnings.  The boy at one time wanted us to write a blog together named “Whacky Food groups” so we could list recipes of foods he thought were good.  Every now and again, when he stumbled upon something he liked he would announce, “Mom, add this to our whacky food group so we know how to make it again.”  If I remember correctly, I initiated a blog and then promptly forgot my user name–never to be seen again. Who knows, someday I’ll google whacky food groups and find some not so good tasting recipes-except in the eyes of a young boy.

November 24, 2002: Our quest for the boy to eat real food has taken another step forward. Tonight he ate (begrudgingly) pizza. Shortly thereafter he also wanted a slice of peanut butter toast–to “wash out that pizza flavor”.  Well one small step… Yesterday I came home with a box of clementines and he asked, “Mom are those oranges?” I explained what they were and he repeated their name “Cle-men-tines. Can I taste them?  Umm, they are yummy!” He proceeded to steal a couple slices out of my hand. We are trying to get him to eat peaches and apple sauce with his meals again. The other day he told me that peaches were once again his favorite. Evidently he had forgotten for about a year.

Funny how times change.  Where the boy needed to cleanse his pallet with peanut butter, today he’s more likely to eat a full pizza on his own and then follow with a peanut butter toast chaser–just because he can. I’m often surprised when he finishes dinner and a half an hour later complains that he’s starving. “You’re not starving, you just ate” I tell him.  “Mom that was like a half an hour ago…” as if thirty minutes is enough time to”starve-to-death”. “How about you eat an apple, an orange, a clementine, a banana?” I offer.  On average he’ll settle for the apple–which is accompanied by of 2-3 large glasses of milk. Talk about a whacky food grouping…

For the first two years of the boy’s existence away from baby food and bottles, the only thing that kid would eat were Tyson chicken nuggets. On occasion he would try hot dogs (winner), bologna and cheese sandwiches (not a winner) or spaghetti (a winner at first, then spent the night throwing up-he wouldn’t even try to eat it again for two years). I made the mistake of telling a friend, in front of the boy (doh!) that he didn’t like his food touching one another.  Talk about a dumb move. From then on soup of any kind was off the menu.

The worst experience I ever had getting him to eat was when he was really quite sick and needed to take some medication. He refused. No matter what I tried-emotional black mail-“I’m going to give pooh bear to some other boy who does what his parents ask of him!” or better food… I sprinkled the meds and mixed them into ice cream and declared “Ice cream for breakfast!” only to watch him throw the bowl onto the floor. At one point I even tied him to his high chair so he couldn’t leave the kitchen. Come hell or high water he was taking this medication. Exhausted I called my mother and cried, “He won’t take his medication. I’ve tried everything”. “Leave the room.” she said. “What?” “Leave him alone in the room. He won’t like it and will agree to take the medication.”  “Mom, no way…that won’t work” I replied, upset at her seemingly mundane response to my horrid problem. “Well nothing else you’ve tried has worked.  Why not give this a shot-what do you have to lose?”

Unhappy, I walked out of the kitchen and closed the door behind me and then stood there listening-through the door. The boy became quiet for a few minutes before he realized I wasn’t coming back in.  “MOMMY, MOMMY PLEASE COME BACK!!” he cried. I opened the door and said, “Not if you won’t take your medication” and closed the door again. “MOMMY I SORRY, PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME!!” he cried. I came back, offered him the medication and he drank it down without further complaint. I was shocked, upset, happy and mad all at the same time.

Its very difficult calling your mother to tell her she was right!

But, Thank GOD she was.



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