Let me begin post by being right up-front about one issue:
My kids are incredibly picky eaters. I mean, HUGELY picky. Now, I'll grant you that David, my seven-year-old, has taken to being a bit more adventurous and sort of willing to try new foods. Not so my daughter, Elizabeth, who is three.
I'm a pretty big fan of fruits and vegetables. I'm all for peaches, pears, apples, oranges, grapes and watermelon. Carrots, corn, green beans, and the occasional sprig of broccoli, make me very happy. I admit that I can do without peas, honeydew melon, and cantaloupe.
Most of these items, though, really do not go over well with my tribe.
I think that Glen would be the first to admit that the kids get his picky eating habits from him. He retells many stories of, as a young boy, sitting at the dining room table and having a battle of wills with his mom who, understandably enough, said, "you're not leaving this table until you clean your plate." Apparently, on many occasions, they would sit there for a couple of hours.
Suffice it to say that I'm not that disciplined when it comes to feeding my kids and setting expectations of what they will eat. Perhaps I should be. Nevertheless, up until now Glen and I have probably been pretty laid back in terms of laying down the culinary law.
With Glen's new job, though, the situation is such that we really should not indulge in as many trips to McDonald's or the local Z Pizza restaurant for the sake of convenience and expediency. Yes, it's a sure bet that both eating establishments will have something on their menu that David and Elizabeth will more than gladly gulp down, chicken nuggets and cheese pizza in particular. In a similar vein, I've found myself less inclined to being eager to break open a box of Kraft Mac n' Cheese (spirals only, please) for dinner. It's yummy, of course, but the ingredients listed on the box give me huge pause.
To that end, Glen and I agreed that since our entire household structure would be getting weird anyway, why not use this first week of the commuter family arrangement to introduce new eating habits.
What could possibly go wrong?
Over this past weekend (Thanksgiving weekend, to be exact), we sat down with David and poured over several kid-friendly cook books, and asked the little guy to point out the recipes that looked interesting to him. Much to my delight, he pointed to strawberry/banana smoothies, apple/cinnamon muffins, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and homemade fish sticks as options he'd be willing to try this week. Thank you, Williams-Sonoma Kids Cooking book!!
Then, we made a menu for this week's breakfast, lunch and dinner, in the hopes that we could not only avoid eating fast food, but also streamline our grocery shopping to those essentials that would provide us with the ingredients for new epicurean explorations.
On the Bill o' Fair for Monday:
Breakfast: For David, Scrambled eggs with cheese and parsley (the parsley being a new addition to a dish that David otherwise eats for breakfast pretty much every day); for Elizabeth, pancakes.
Lunch: Homemade "lunchables" - with the goal of avoiding the Oscar Meyer version which, while absolutely delicious, is high in sodium.
Dinner: Homemade cornmeal encrusted fish sticks and mashed potatoes.
I woke up bright and early on Monday morning, not because of my alarm clock (which I forgot to turn on the night before) but because our 15-year old Bichon Frise, Spike, was barking his little head off downstairs, in his "I need to go to the bathroom NOW" bark. I trudged down to the kitchen to let the dogs have a much-needed bio break, and looked at the ingredients for the fruit smoothies. We forgot to get strawberries. Scratch the smoothies.
The scrambled eggs with cheese and parsley was easy enough. I was secretly glad that it was not apple/cinnamon muffin day, because I was simply not awake enough to throw those together.
Eventually, David, Elizabeth and I all assembled in the kitchen, dressed for work/school, and ready to take on the day. David reminded me that I was to add parsley to his eggs. "No problem, sweetie," I assured him, and went out to the front yard to snip 2-3 leaves of fresh Italian parsley from my humble garden.
I returned to the kitchen to prepare the eggs, and to drop a few slices of wheat bread into the toaster for Elizabeth. I'd completely forgotten about the pancakes. Eggs came together beautifully, and the parsley added a nice, French-cuisine touch to the dish.
David eyed his newly adorned eggs, plunged his fork into the fluffy concoction and took a bite.
A nanosecond passed, and he declared the parsley to be simply awful. Meantime, Elizabeth munched away on her toast.
David and I tried to work together to remove the offending green herbs from his eggs. The good thing was that I added very little. The bad thing is that the parsley flakes were small little buggers.
Fast forward later in the day to dinner. I ran home mid-day to peel the potatoes and prepare the fish sticks in advance so that all I'd have to do when I got home was boil the potatoes and fry the fish. When we all came home after Elizabeth's princess ballet class, she asked permission to go upstairs to play, and I obliged, saying that she was to come right down when dinner was ready. While preparing our repast, David declared multiple times, "I'm hungry!"
The potatoes whipped, the fish fried to perfection, I plated the food and we sat down. Elizabeth took one look at her plate, made a face, and said, "I want mac and cheese!"
"Elizabeth, mashed potatoes taste just like French fries, but softer."
"Elizabeth, I'm not making mac and cheese tonight."
David was a trouper, and declared the mashed potatoes to be yummy (yeah!) and the fish sticks crunchy and good. Elizabeth remained unconvinced.
I gave her the usual ultimatum. "Well, you don't have to eat, but that does mean that you'll go right to bed with no dinner, no snacks, and no binkie (pacifier)."
A few moments passed, and remarkably, she picked up a fish stick and said, "I'll try just one bite." Slowly, she drew the offending fried creature to her mouth, placed it on her tongue, and started to whine. And cry. And whimper. And then scream.
"How about the mashed potatoes?" I urged. "If you try just one bite, I'll reheat some mac and cheese."
Now, the reader who does not know me or my kids may wonder why I was so quick to cave. Let me provide a bit of background. Both David and Elizabeth were born four weeks early. They are skinny minnies. I mean, they are slim! I am pretty sure that my mom is absolutely convinced that I starve them, but that truly is not the case. With picky eating comes discerning appetites.They are not one to clean their plates, even if it's food they love. When they are full, they are full, and Glen and I respect that. That said, I really want and need them to eat. Ergo my offer of mac and cheese to ensure that she got at least a few calories in her.
But, back to the story. "No! Mac and cheese right now!!"
"No, Elizabeth. One bite of potato and then we'll talk."
With this offer, she came unglued. Cue toddler temper tantrum of thermonuclear proportions.
Even David did his best to convince Elizabeth that the potatoes were worth trying. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth" It's yummy! Look!" he said, shoveling potatoes into his mouth.
Then, pretty much out of nowhere, she declared, "I want to sleep in David's room tonight." (The kids delight in having sleep-overs in each others rooms, especially on the weekends).
"Uh uh. No dice, sister. No eating, no privileges."
Cue tantrum that registered 8.6 on the Richter Scale.
Some mac and cheese was consumed, and then she eyed the now cold fish sticks again. She put one in her mouth and began to chew.
"Good girl!" I cheered, utterly beside myself with shock. "Okay, this is very, very good. If you eat the rest of your fish sticks, we'll talk about sleeping in David's room." Yes, here I'll pause to acknowledge that I do understand the fact that there really is no point in negotiating with a toddler. But I was grasping at straws here to reward what was otherwise remarkable behavior.
"Elizabeth! Do it! Do it!" David encouraged her.
But it was not to be. She'd put some fish in her mouth, only to let the tilapia flakes rest on her lips and then slowly slide back down to the counter in a congealed mass.
Let's just say that the story ends with both kids getting a bath and sleeping in their respective bedrooms.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
November 28, 2010: The first week begins
I decided to not start this blog by announcing to the world, "you know, I've never blogged before." No, not me. That would be trite.
Instead, I begin my electronic opus by introducing the world to my beloved family of four - Glen, the husband/daddy, David, the older child/big brother, Elizabeth, the younger child/little sister, and myself - the mommy/wife. Oh, let's not forget the two dogs, Lager and Spike.
But why, might the unknowing reader ask, would your family be of any particular interest to anyone besides ... well, your family? An excellent question! Here's my attempt at an answer:
We are your ordinary, suburban family living in Southern California. My husband has worked in the tech industry for almost 20 years, and my career has centered on the field of higher education since 1993. Between the two of us, we have five advanced degrees, two cars, two kids, two dogs, one house, and two mortgages (I think).
Recently, our family schedule and infrastructure was turned slightly askew, but in a good way. Before the holiday season began, my husband was afforded the opportunity to begin a new career at a company in Silicone Valley - you know, the Bay area. This would not be a big deal were it not for the fact that the Bay area - home to my in-laws (whom I love, by the way) is approximately 400 miles away from our home in Southern California. This was not just any run-of-the-mill offer. This opportunity was hip, hot, and NOW! Let's just say that the offering company has a CEO who briefly attended Harvard, is 26 years old, and recently had a major motion picture made about him.
Fast forward a few weeks' worth of a detailed decision-making process, and we get to the part where Glen jumped at the opportunity, with what I hope was my unfettered, unabridged, unconditional, and complete support.
This, of course, unveiled a series of conundrums that, while not insurmountable, required some deep thinking and strategerie, particularly pertaining where our band of Hastings merry-makers should establish permanent residence. Issues to consider: kids' schools, my job, our house, and our community.
Let's fast-forward a bit more to the part where we decide that, for the most part, Chez Hastings will remain in Southern California. Glen and I agree that he will commute weekly, coming home on Friday evenings, returning to northern California on Sunday evenings, and racking up a boat load of frequent flyer miles on Southwest Airlines.
And herein lies the purpose of this blog: to keep a journalistic account of the mayhem, silliness, and pratfalls that will no doubt come with my new (yet part-time) role of single mommy.
Let's put that in bold font, shall we? PART-TIME SINGLE MOMMY!
So here, I must curb my sarcasm for a few minutes to add a few notes:
1. I could not be more proud of and excited for my sweet Glen. He has embarked upon the adventure of a lifetime!
2. Our kids - David and Elizabeth - are pretty much 100% awesome. Parenting them is a joy and an honor. They are kind, smart, thoughtful, and engaging.
3. I have a terrific job with a very supportive boss and co-workers, and more friends who have offered to pitch in and help during the weekdays than I can possibly count.
This being said, many people have asked me, "how do you feel about Glen being away so much during the week now?" Up until this week ... well, this past weekend to be specific ... I hadn't given it much thought. Glen and I have both had travel obligations for work that have taken us away from the house on many, many, many occasions. Glen, in particular, is quite resilient and good-natured about the whole thing when I have to travel for my job, and the kids and I became very used to having Daddy travel to Sunnyvale weekly for his former employer (whose name begins with a Y and whose company color is purple).
So, it's fair to say that in many respects, this new arrangement is not all that different.
Except that it is different. Very different.
We grown-ups* often tell ourselves that we will look back on the days that our kids were small and relish those moments ... especially when aforementioned kids are teenagers who are either screeming at us or not speaking to us at all. While I don't anticipate that this will necessarily be the case with David and Elizabeth, I have long considered how best to capture and record the moments of their young childhood that will later become treasured memories.
I hope that this blog will help me do that.
*OMG! Did I just refer to myself as a grown up? Yikes!
Instead, I begin my electronic opus by introducing the world to my beloved family of four - Glen, the husband/daddy, David, the older child/big brother, Elizabeth, the younger child/little sister, and myself - the mommy/wife. Oh, let's not forget the two dogs, Lager and Spike.
But why, might the unknowing reader ask, would your family be of any particular interest to anyone besides ... well, your family? An excellent question! Here's my attempt at an answer:
We are your ordinary, suburban family living in Southern California. My husband has worked in the tech industry for almost 20 years, and my career has centered on the field of higher education since 1993. Between the two of us, we have five advanced degrees, two cars, two kids, two dogs, one house, and two mortgages (I think).
Recently, our family schedule and infrastructure was turned slightly askew, but in a good way. Before the holiday season began, my husband was afforded the opportunity to begin a new career at a company in Silicone Valley - you know, the Bay area. This would not be a big deal were it not for the fact that the Bay area - home to my in-laws (whom I love, by the way) is approximately 400 miles away from our home in Southern California. This was not just any run-of-the-mill offer. This opportunity was hip, hot, and NOW! Let's just say that the offering company has a CEO who briefly attended Harvard, is 26 years old, and recently had a major motion picture made about him.
Fast forward a few weeks' worth of a detailed decision-making process, and we get to the part where Glen jumped at the opportunity, with what I hope was my unfettered, unabridged, unconditional, and complete support.
This, of course, unveiled a series of conundrums that, while not insurmountable, required some deep thinking and strategerie, particularly pertaining where our band of Hastings merry-makers should establish permanent residence. Issues to consider: kids' schools, my job, our house, and our community.
Let's fast-forward a bit more to the part where we decide that, for the most part, Chez Hastings will remain in Southern California. Glen and I agree that he will commute weekly, coming home on Friday evenings, returning to northern California on Sunday evenings, and racking up a boat load of frequent flyer miles on Southwest Airlines.
And herein lies the purpose of this blog: to keep a journalistic account of the mayhem, silliness, and pratfalls that will no doubt come with my new (yet part-time) role of single mommy.
Let's put that in bold font, shall we? PART-TIME SINGLE MOMMY!
So here, I must curb my sarcasm for a few minutes to add a few notes:
1. I could not be more proud of and excited for my sweet Glen. He has embarked upon the adventure of a lifetime!
2. Our kids - David and Elizabeth - are pretty much 100% awesome. Parenting them is a joy and an honor. They are kind, smart, thoughtful, and engaging.
3. I have a terrific job with a very supportive boss and co-workers, and more friends who have offered to pitch in and help during the weekdays than I can possibly count.
This being said, many people have asked me, "how do you feel about Glen being away so much during the week now?" Up until this week ... well, this past weekend to be specific ... I hadn't given it much thought. Glen and I have both had travel obligations for work that have taken us away from the house on many, many, many occasions. Glen, in particular, is quite resilient and good-natured about the whole thing when I have to travel for my job, and the kids and I became very used to having Daddy travel to Sunnyvale weekly for his former employer (whose name begins with a Y and whose company color is purple).
So, it's fair to say that in many respects, this new arrangement is not all that different.
Except that it is different. Very different.
We grown-ups* often tell ourselves that we will look back on the days that our kids were small and relish those moments ... especially when aforementioned kids are teenagers who are either screeming at us or not speaking to us at all. While I don't anticipate that this will necessarily be the case with David and Elizabeth, I have long considered how best to capture and record the moments of their young childhood that will later become treasured memories.
I hope that this blog will help me do that.
*OMG! Did I just refer to myself as a grown up? Yikes!
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