I’ve never claimed to be one of those parents who thinks she has it all figured out. Hell, I’m almost five years in and I still have no idea what I’m doing. Sure, I’ve figured out how to game the system on a few things. Sleep training, for instance. We didn’t have to worry about that with my daughter; she was a sleeping machine because she was a preemie. My son, on the other hand, was a nightmare sleeper—at least in the beginning. Then we sleep trained him within two weeks and never looked back. Score! (Don’t think I’ve deluded myself that he won’t regress at some point. I don’t know when, but I know it’s coming, and I dread it. For now, though, I’m at peace and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.)
While sleep training was somewhat of a “breeze” for us, there’s one huge, mammoth, ginormous area that I still can’t get a handle on: that whole food/eating extravaganza. Oh, how I despise feeding kids! It’s such a waste of time, ingredients, and brain power. It wasn’t always this hard, though. When my daughter was ready to start solids, I went into hardcore mommy mode and made everything from scratch—cereals, fruits, veggies, any and all sorts of meal combinations—and my daughter would house all of it. People used to comment on it all the time, about what a fantastic eater she was. And boy was I proud, of her and of myself! I felt like the best mommy in the world, feeding my girl nothing but nutritious and delicious homemade meals that she devoured.
Then she turned two-and-a-half and all of that changed. She didn’t just become a picky eater, she became the most finicky eater known to man. I didn’t even know what picky was until my daughter. She stopped eating everything, even fruit! She whittled her choices down to about seven things: pasta, bread/crescent rolls, pasta, grilled cheese, taquitos (although she squeezes out all the insides so that only the shell is left), hotdogs, and pasta. (She does eat chicken soup, too, but she removes the chicken and veggies, so it’s essentially just pasta with some seasoned water.)
The only time she will even go near fruit is for her after-dinner snack because I refuse to give her anything else at that time, especially when she won’t eat most of the meals I prepare. And even then it’s a struggle getting her to pick a fruit. Most days I have approximately 10 types of fruit in my house, but she only ever wants the one I don’t have. If I have green melon, she wants red. If I have red grapes, she wants green. If I have apples, she wants an orange. You get the idea. And don’t get me started on packaging. If she notices that her sandwich bread is in a different colored bag, she won’t eat it. If I even think of buying her the same exact hotdogs in a different wrapper, her world immediately comes to an end. I’m well aware she does this on purpose to exert some sort of control over her life. And I get it, I do. But the whole process is mentally and physically exhausting. This “fight” over eating healthy foods has become our thing, so much so that I’ve come to dread mealtimes.
It’s not like I haven’t tried various methods to get her to eat nutritious foods. I’ve pureed and hidden vegetables in tomato sauce, which she claims tasted nasty and now she refuses to even eat sauce on her pasta. I’ve minced vegetables and incorporated them into meatballs, but she spotted them because she is a professional food detective! I’ve tried making smoothies and juices. I’ve cut her foods into various characters and shapes. I’ve scoured the Web for recipes using fun and kid-friendly ingredients (like tater tots). I’ve tried making it into a game where she could choose a varied selection of colored fruits and veggies, and if she ate one new food per day for a week, she would get a special prize or treat. (Even the allure of a new Hatchimals toy couldn’t convince her!) I’ve asked her to cook with me in the hopes that preparing the food herself would make her more likely to eat it. None of my strategies have worked.
I’ve even thought about taking her to see a nutritionist, but the problem isn’t that I don’t know what foods to feed her. The issue is that she refuses to eat pretty much anything. She won’t even take vitamins that look and taste like gummy bears. What kid doesn’t like gummy vitamins?! If she has any inkling that something might be even slightly good for her, she won’t acknowledge its presence. And my son has started to follow her lead (he is slightly better than her in some respects, though). So, I am at a complete loss as to how to proceed from here.
The worst part is that deep down I know this is all my fault. I created this monster and now I’m being forced to do battle with it, all day, every day. Before I had children, I swore I would never cook my kids something separate from what my husband and I were eating. LOL. And here I am doing just that—and then hating myself for it. I question myself all the time. I’ve discussed my failings as a mother in this regard ad nauseam with anyone willing to listen.
Looking back, I wish I had put my foot down. Maybe if I had been a little bit stronger from the beginning, we wouldn’t be here now. Maybe if I had let her cry and whine in hunger for hours upon end without giving in. Maybe if I had stopped caring whether she ate or not. But I can’t. That’s not me. I do care and no matter how hard I try, I’m always going to care. And I’m going to keep trying, every day. Because one day (hopefully sooner rather than later), I know I’m going to wake up and ask her what she wants for breakfast, and she’s going to say, “You know what, mom, I think I’d like to try some oatmeal with blueberries today.”
And after I pick myself up off the floor, I’m going to make her the best darn oatmeal the world has ever known!
Until then, though, I’d love to hear from you dear readers! Do you have these same issues? Do you have any advice to offer? Because if you do, this momma is all ears!