Day one: Adventures in eating

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.