I have a daughter. A very fun, but very strong-willed daughter. And she hates to eat dinner. OK, she doesn't hate to eat all dinner, just anything that isn't mac 'n cheese, chicken nuggets, plain cheese pizza, or hot dogs. So I try to have about one night a week when I serve something she likes, but the rest of the time, she just LOOKS at what I've prepared and declares that she doesn't like it.
I don't know if I'm just a bad mom, or a bad cook, or what, but each of my children has gone through a stage similar to this.
With my oldest, if he refused to eat at dinnertime, I would put the bowl or plate in the fridge, and he got it for breakfast the next day. Basically, he didn't get to eat ANYTHING until he ate what I'd served him. I figured that eventually he'd get hungry enough to eat it. And he did. At age 10, he is now a human food-eating machine who often eats more than I do, and who almost never needs coaxing in this department.
With my second son, I lost some will power, or else I decided that his shrieking was too hard on my ears, or maybe I decided I hated having little bowls of half-eaten food in my fridge. Whatever the reason, I gave up on trying to serve it the next day. But I was still strong on the point of them not getting to eat anything else that night -- no dessert, no other food or snacks, not even juice. The process took much longer, but then he got obsessed with eating "healthy food," and he realized through experience that having sauce on your noodles does not equate to having a death sentence. He even LIKES most of the food now.
But my now-5-year-old daughter is above any form of bribery or cajoling. She was fine as a baby, eating all the home-made things I served her -- until one day when I gave her baby food from a jar. Ever since that day, she refuses to eat anything new. It is as if I violated her trust that day, and I just haven't been able to earn it back. I have the same rules as with my second son, but she literally DOES not CARE! She would rather go hungry than even TRY the food.
As an example, on Halloween, my in-laws were here and served a San Antonio specialty of chili sauce on corn chips. I told her she wouldn't get to go trick-or-treating if she didn't try ONE bite. One bite. To go trick-or-treating!!! She refused. Several times. I was shocked. She even haughtily declared, "Well, I don't want to go trick-or-treating. I will just let the other kids go, and I will eat their candy when they get back." (The NERVE!) Anyway, she eventually ate the bite, and I even got her to eat the rest of her bowl once I explained that she wouldn't get to EAT the candy unless she ate all of her dinner.
THEN, last Monday we had potato soup. She DOES like MASHED potatoes, so I thought I might be able to persuade her to eat some. NO WAY. Absolutely refused. Without even trying it. I reminded her that she didn't have to eat it, but that she wouldn't get our FHE treat. "I just want to go to bed," she said. But then she kept insisting that she didn't like it. I told her that if she kept saying she didn't like it, she would HAVE to try one bite or go outside. And she kept saying it, so I put her outside and told her she had to stay there until she decided she could try a bite.
It was cold outside, and it was raining. I thought for sure she'd be back inside in under a minute. Nope. It took her about five minutes of crying and saying "I'm cold!" before I finally convinced her to come in and take a bite. But then she wouldn't EAT the bite because it included a potato chunk.
Back outside.
This time I took the bowl to the door and held the spoon there so that she couldn't come inside until the bite was eaten. She was crying and shivering, and I kept telling her that if she would just eat the one bite then she could come inside and get warm. Nope. Nope. and Nope. "Mom, I'm cold. Mom, I'm freezing. Mom, my hair is getting wet." And finally, "Mom, my fingernail polish is coming off."
It was a LONG time before she finally took the one bite and came inside to get warm. I looked at my husband and noted that if she is this unbending NOW, about a bite of soup, when she's hungry and supposedly freezing, then I can't even imagine what she will be like as she gets older. I just wonder if I will have enough energy to match that kind of determination.
Incidentally, though, ...
This past week, she begged me to make potato soup. Yes, begged. Maybe it was worth it???
Oh, and after some cajoling she also ate Tuna Casserole. (I successfully convinced her that the breaded top would taste like a chicken nugget, and that the rest would taste like a tuna sandwich.) She even had seconds -- and thirds -- after originally declaring that she would hate it.
So, DISH... (pun intended.) How do you get your kids to eat? Am I just mean for serving so much "healthy" food? Am I out of luck because they somehow didn't learn it when they were younger? Do I just wait for her to outgrow this one? Am I damaging her delicate self-image by occasionally forcing her to try new things?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Oatmeal in Your Hair
My mother-in-law came to visit us a couple of weeks ago, and in the course of laughing about all of the craziness that comes with kids, she told about a speaker she heard long ago. Apparently the speaker jokingly told the women (more or less) that the most important part of motherhood is to make sure that, before you walk out the door, you check to make sure you don't have oatmeal in your hair.
In the past week, this has become much more meaningful to me.
First, there was one day when I was cleaning up lunch and realized that I had sat in the same chair my toddler had used for breakfast, but I guess I failed to notice the oatmeal he had spilled on his chair, because I found it all over the seat of my pants. But not in my hair. And I didn't actually walk out the door that way.
Then came Sunday.
This past Sunday my husband woke up early and went to his leadership meetings at the church. I woke up with him, began my personal scripture study, and refreshed myself on the Sunday School lesson I would be teaching that day. When I was finished reading, I put my head down -- just for a minute, I thought -- but promptly fell asleep and woke up much too late to be able to make it to church on time with five kids.
We scurried around getting everyone ready, and made it there about five minutes late. There were no seats left near the back, so we ended up having to walk all the way up to the second row, dead center, where there was a row with enough room for all of us.
We hadn't been there five minutes when the baby started crying, so I took her out, again walking past everyone in the entire congregation.
I sat down in the mother's room, where there was already one other mom caring for her baby. She looked over at me and remarked, "You know, you have a band-aid on your skirt." I looked down, and sure enough, there was my son's used band-aid, stuck to my red skirt, not camouflaged at all.
So, um, yeah -- I went to church with a band-aid stuck to my skirt. I think I might have been better off with oatmeal in my hair.
In the past week, this has become much more meaningful to me.
First, there was one day when I was cleaning up lunch and realized that I had sat in the same chair my toddler had used for breakfast, but I guess I failed to notice the oatmeal he had spilled on his chair, because I found it all over the seat of my pants. But not in my hair. And I didn't actually walk out the door that way.
Then came Sunday.
This past Sunday my husband woke up early and went to his leadership meetings at the church. I woke up with him, began my personal scripture study, and refreshed myself on the Sunday School lesson I would be teaching that day. When I was finished reading, I put my head down -- just for a minute, I thought -- but promptly fell asleep and woke up much too late to be able to make it to church on time with five kids.
We scurried around getting everyone ready, and made it there about five minutes late. There were no seats left near the back, so we ended up having to walk all the way up to the second row, dead center, where there was a row with enough room for all of us.
We hadn't been there five minutes when the baby started crying, so I took her out, again walking past everyone in the entire congregation.
I sat down in the mother's room, where there was already one other mom caring for her baby. She looked over at me and remarked, "You know, you have a band-aid on your skirt." I looked down, and sure enough, there was my son's used band-aid, stuck to my red skirt, not camouflaged at all.
So, um, yeah -- I went to church with a band-aid stuck to my skirt. I think I might have been better off with oatmeal in my hair.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Blame it on the State
My 7-yo is obsessed with how much he weighs. At every meal he asks me whether all the food we're eating is "healthy." He gets on the scale several times a day, before and after meals, to see how much the meal affects things. Anorexic? Nope. He's trying to GAIN weight.
Why? Because Maryland recently passed a new car seat law that essentially requires kids to ride in a booster seat until they're 8 years old (or 4'9", or 65 pounds.) This, wouldn't really be an issue if he had been riding in a booster all along, but it was only a few months previous that we had decided he was big enough to ride with just a seatbelt. He HATES his booster seat, though. So while he will turn 8 in February, apparently that is just not soon enough for him and he has decided that he needs to get bigger.
The funny thing is that he barely breaks 50 pounds now, but he wants to make sure he is always eating healthy foods so he can "get bigger faster" and meet that 65 pound mark. I am not really complaining yet, because it means he eats all of his dinner now, and asks for seconds on vegetables. And, of course, WATER, he says, is the "healthiest thing of all," so I often find him drinking glass after glass of water, and jumping on the scale after each one (not even noticing how much more he has to go to the bathroom.)
So how long do I wait before I tell him that he'll gain weight faster by eating junk food?
Why? Because Maryland recently passed a new car seat law that essentially requires kids to ride in a booster seat until they're 8 years old (or 4'9", or 65 pounds.) This, wouldn't really be an issue if he had been riding in a booster all along, but it was only a few months previous that we had decided he was big enough to ride with just a seatbelt. He HATES his booster seat, though. So while he will turn 8 in February, apparently that is just not soon enough for him and he has decided that he needs to get bigger.
The funny thing is that he barely breaks 50 pounds now, but he wants to make sure he is always eating healthy foods so he can "get bigger faster" and meet that 65 pound mark. I am not really complaining yet, because it means he eats all of his dinner now, and asks for seconds on vegetables. And, of course, WATER, he says, is the "healthiest thing of all," so I often find him drinking glass after glass of water, and jumping on the scale after each one (not even noticing how much more he has to go to the bathroom.)
So how long do I wait before I tell him that he'll gain weight faster by eating junk food?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Why Do I Try?
I actually folded some laundry today. However, I haven't even put it away yet BECAUSE...
While I folded laundry, my 2-yo ate rice in the livingroom. There are now a billion grains of sticky rice all over the carpet -- not even centrally located. And I just vacuumed yesterday. And I'm supposed to be getting ready for all the grandparents to stay here for the weekend.
But we're smiling. 'Cause, you know, in 50 years I'm going to MISS this. I just know that I will be looking around and wondering why there's nobody there to dump rice on my carpets.
So now, do I clean it up, ONE sticky grain at a time? Or do I wait for it to dry and try to vacuum it, taking the chance that it will instead glue itself to the carpet fibers? Or do I go put away the laundry and try to not think about the rice?
While I folded laundry, my 2-yo ate rice in the livingroom. There are now a billion grains of sticky rice all over the carpet -- not even centrally located. And I just vacuumed yesterday. And I'm supposed to be getting ready for all the grandparents to stay here for the weekend.
But we're smiling. 'Cause, you know, in 50 years I'm going to MISS this. I just know that I will be looking around and wondering why there's nobody there to dump rice on my carpets.
So now, do I clean it up, ONE sticky grain at a time? Or do I wait for it to dry and try to vacuum it, taking the chance that it will instead glue itself to the carpet fibers? Or do I go put away the laundry and try to not think about the rice?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Funnest . FHE . Ever .
My son has a science project due on Friday. Yes, this coming Friday. Halloween. And it is not just a cute little science project. He is supposed to build a roller coaster. When he came home with the assignment, my jaw dropped. Partly because he had a different science-fair-type-project due LAST week, and partly because I have started to realize that whenever HE has a huge homework assignment, my life has to temporarily revolve around that project -- helping him gather materials, making sure he doesn't completely procrastinate until the last day, protecting the half-finished project from tiny fingers, getting half-finished projects out of my kitchen, and so forth.
Thus, the inspiration for tonight's fun came when I was complaining to my mom about the assignment, and she suggested that a very good "material" for the coaster would be the tubular foam used for insulating copper pipes. Brilliant. It is still hard for me in my pride to admit that sometimes mom really is a good resource. Even better than Google.
And it came to pass that we went to Home Depot to begin our Family Home Evening, singing, singing all the way. (I need to emphasize here that my husband is in Montana for the week, so *I*, by myself, took all five kids to Home Depot. And we made it out alive. With only one trip to the restrooms. And we didn't break anything. In fact we spent less than $10 there.)
Incidentally, we found the foam stuff. It's only $1.18 for 6 feet! We bought 6 tubes and cut them in half lengthwise. Then we taped it together and started "experimenting" with different configurations -- all over the house. Up, down, looping, going all around. Combine that with about a hundred marbles, and all of my kids (well, except the baby) were entertained for more than 2 hours straight. And they learned stuff about physics. (I know, because I made them tell me what they learned. Just so I wouldn't lose the well-deserved title of "boring.")
Anyway, it's educational. It's cheap. It's fun. You will love it! OK, so maybe it's not the absolute funnest thing ever, and maybe the only reason I think it's fun is that I'm secretly a nerd at heart, but my kids seriously did not want to stop, and they want to do it again tomorrow.(Good thing, because my son still has to make one small enough and sturdy enough that he can take it to school on Friday. And then he has to write a report about it.)
Disclaimer: Technically, while I have a 2-year-old, and while he loved this activity as much as the others, marbles are not intended for children under 3 years old. Neither are matchbox cars, legos, or train sets. Or sharpies. So, um, yes, I'm a bad mom. And if you're a good mom, you won't actually let your kids do this unless they're over 3. Or at least you won't blog about it until they're over 3.
Thus, the inspiration for tonight's fun came when I was complaining to my mom about the assignment, and she suggested that a very good "material" for the coaster would be the tubular foam used for insulating copper pipes. Brilliant. It is still hard for me in my pride to admit that sometimes mom really is a good resource. Even better than Google.
And it came to pass that we went to Home Depot to begin our Family Home Evening, singing, singing all the way. (I need to emphasize here that my husband is in Montana for the week, so *I*, by myself, took all five kids to Home Depot. And we made it out alive. With only one trip to the restrooms. And we didn't break anything. In fact we spent less than $10 there.)
Incidentally, we found the foam stuff. It's only $1.18 for 6 feet! We bought 6 tubes and cut them in half lengthwise. Then we taped it together and started "experimenting" with different configurations -- all over the house. Up, down, looping, going all around. Combine that with about a hundred marbles, and all of my kids (well, except the baby) were entertained for more than 2 hours straight. And they learned stuff about physics. (I know, because I made them tell me what they learned. Just so I wouldn't lose the well-deserved title of "boring.")
Anyway, it's educational. It's cheap. It's fun. You will love it! OK, so maybe it's not the absolute funnest thing ever, and maybe the only reason I think it's fun is that I'm secretly a nerd at heart, but my kids seriously did not want to stop, and they want to do it again tomorrow.(Good thing, because my son still has to make one small enough and sturdy enough that he can take it to school on Friday. And then he has to write a report about it.)
Disclaimer: Technically, while I have a 2-year-old, and while he loved this activity as much as the others, marbles are not intended for children under 3 years old. Neither are matchbox cars, legos, or train sets. Or sharpies. So, um, yes, I'm a bad mom. And if you're a good mom, you won't actually let your kids do this unless they're over 3. Or at least you won't blog about it until they're over 3.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I Was Winning All Along and Didn't Even Know It!
Every once in awhile I have a realization of such proportion as to shake my view of reality forever. This one happened the other day (meaning, like, two months ago. yikes.)
I was still pregnant, and we were desperately trying to decide on a name for the new baby girl. I had narrowed my list down to a few favorites, but my husband didn't really seem excited about any of them. He just kept saying he wanted to go get some baby name books from the library. I found several baby name web sites and tried to refer him to those, but he was still pretty insistent on using the books. Then he got them. And he studied them. Devoutly. And he made his own list.
At the risk of offending people who may have these names, I have to say that I was surprised. Halcyona? Melisande? Shield? ???
The next day, sitting in church, I was reflecting on his name list (while, um, simultaneously reflecting on what was being said... and keeping my kids from exploding in the pew.) As I looked at my four other children, and thought about THEIR names, I suddenly realized that if the naming process had been entirely up to my husband, my boys would have names like Axe, Abner, and Aerk. (Not even exaggerating a little!)
And that's when the REAL realization came. For the past ten years I'd been thinking that WE, together, decided what to name our kids. And to some degree that was still correct, because we had together narrowed down our lists and decided on the final names. But in that moment, I realized that for the past ten years I'd been vetoing every name he suggested, and that nearly all of the names that actually made it to the list were MY suggestions. Admittedly, if I had to do it over again, I'd STILL probably veto them, but I started to wonder what that says about us. Is it an indicator of how wonderfully persuasive I am? Or how incredibly selfless he is? Or just that his names were destined to be dismissed... Should I be proud of the fact that I'd been "winning" the name debate? Or embarrassed that I hadn't given more serious thought to his suggestions?
Either way, I have to say that I like my kids' names. I think THEY like their names. But maybe if we have a 100 more, or if I break down and let my kids get a pet, then we can pull out the name Melisande.
I was still pregnant, and we were desperately trying to decide on a name for the new baby girl. I had narrowed my list down to a few favorites, but my husband didn't really seem excited about any of them. He just kept saying he wanted to go get some baby name books from the library. I found several baby name web sites and tried to refer him to those, but he was still pretty insistent on using the books. Then he got them. And he studied them. Devoutly. And he made his own list.
At the risk of offending people who may have these names, I have to say that I was surprised. Halcyona? Melisande? Shield? ???
The next day, sitting in church, I was reflecting on his name list (while, um, simultaneously reflecting on what was being said... and keeping my kids from exploding in the pew.) As I looked at my four other children, and thought about THEIR names, I suddenly realized that if the naming process had been entirely up to my husband, my boys would have names like Axe, Abner, and Aerk. (Not even exaggerating a little!)
And that's when the REAL realization came. For the past ten years I'd been thinking that WE, together, decided what to name our kids. And to some degree that was still correct, because we had together narrowed down our lists and decided on the final names. But in that moment, I realized that for the past ten years I'd been vetoing every name he suggested, and that nearly all of the names that actually made it to the list were MY suggestions. Admittedly, if I had to do it over again, I'd STILL probably veto them, but I started to wonder what that says about us. Is it an indicator of how wonderfully persuasive I am? Or how incredibly selfless he is? Or just that his names were destined to be dismissed... Should I be proud of the fact that I'd been "winning" the name debate? Or embarrassed that I hadn't given more serious thought to his suggestions?
Either way, I have to say that I like my kids' names. I think THEY like their names. But maybe if we have a 100 more, or if I break down and let my kids get a pet, then we can pull out the name Melisande.
On the Passage of Time
I am inspired. Apparently I haven't been inspired for awhile, because, well, I haven't written anything since July, and now it's October. And October's almost over.
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
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