Tag Archives: food

whacky foods and bad parenting…

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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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sharing bread memories…

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Thanksgiving…need I say more?  The day alone conjures up memories that waft through my subconscious…whether it’s my brother Dan and I waking up early to watch the Macy Thanksgiving day parade on our 25″ RCA/Victor console Television or seeing my brothers Tom and Tim walk in the back door, covered in mud after playing football in the annual “Turkey Bowl” at the park with their friends.  Then there are the smells of the turkeys and roast chickens cooking on the right side of our double oven, while the dressing cooked on the other side.  Thanksgiving Day, as a kid was magical.

Today Thanksgiving is hectic and contrary to popular belief, does not last one day.   Instead Thanksgiving lasts about a week–though I’m sure there are many others out there who will tell you Thanksgiving in fact lasts the entire month of November; made real by all the “Thankful” posts people list on their Facebook pages.  But the actual ritual of the holiday begins for me on the Thursday before, when I try to beat the rush and purchase all my supplies for the upcoming days…only to realize on Wednesday afternoon,  I’ve left something off the list.

Before my mom passed away, I was tapped as the person responsible for making our famous family dressing; most likely because I had the time to learn the recipe.  An added bonus was the time I got to spend with mom (though at the time I probably didn’t realize) sitting at the kitchen table talking, drinking tea while my dad and I tore up the bread and my mother added the secret ingredients.  After she passed away, my dad continued to offer his assistance and home as the place to make the dressing, but last year decided his bread smashing days were through.  I did the only thing I could think of at the time…I enlisted my older sister Ann Marie into helping.  Now the famous family dressing falls on the shoulders of Ann Marie, Marsha and the doll.

Last night we met at my father’s house and began making the dressing.  The doll found the mixing of the ingredients fun for about ten minutes until her aunt offered her the chance to play on her new cell phone and text her older cousins.  As Ann Marie and I finished up the mixing, my dad wandered in to see what all the fuss was about.  I busied myself washing all the bowls and stopped to take in the scene; feeling very thankful I was born into such a good and loving family.  Together we keep the spirit of Thanksgiving alive…plus it doesn’t hurt Wednesday night we’ll join forces again and make all the yummy pies.

Yes, Thanksgiving may be represented by one Thursday in November…but in our hearts, the day lasts a lifetime…