Food Fight

Now that I resemble the turkey I roasted for Thanksgiving (darn you, pumpkin pie! Why do you have to call my name, apple pie a la mode? What do I have to do with thee, cheesecake?), I figure I'll relate what's been going on in my realm of chicken entrees and jarred sweet potatoes.

Food is a sensitive topic in this family. This began when I was pregnant. I was militant during my first 2 trimesters about what I ate ("Must have 2 more servings of whole-grains, 1 more vegetable ..."). The last few weeks, my lower back throbbed in pain, and I was in no shape to cook or care. I ate whatever Tim brought home from a local restaurant. Tim's not into sugar substitutes or anything that sounds like fats have been liberated (fat-free, sugar-free, etc.), so most nights we ate poorly. After Rain was born, I had to go back to watching what I ate.

By then, food had lost its appeal. Most of my meals were cold (from stepping away to change, calm, or feed Rain) or hurried. My attention shifted from what I was eating to what Rain was eating. What she getting enough milk? Should we supplement with formula?

Now we've entered the next stage in the evolution of food's place in our home: how should we shape Rain's eating habits? When Rain was 3.5 months old, she began watching me eat with interest. At first, the action itself was mildly entertaining enough to watch. After 2 weeks, she seemed to realize that somehow I was getting satisfaction in a way she hadn't. We decided to give her rice cereal. Three days later, she'd squirm with anticipation when she saw us mixing cereal with her baby spoon. Every time she would end up with cereal or oatmeal in her hair, on her seat, dripping from her legs, splattered on her shirt, in her nose, dried on her ears, across her face--but, she was happy. Two weeks ago, we introduced her first food: sweet potatoes.

True love, that match was. Tomorrow we venture (again) into the world of pureed carrots. We tried today, and she was like, "Um, sweet potatoes?" Besides this, Rain now stares me down when I eat. She sticks her tongue out, asking, "Just a bit won't hurt me, so come on, ma ..." It's getting to where I'm eating on the sly ("Look at this stuffed pony! Isn't he cute?" *gobble, gobble, gobble*) rather than see the pleading eyes. I'm questioning more and more of what I put on my own plate, too. Don't I want Rain to see me eat lots of veggies and fruits? So, I force myself to eat tomatoes (bleh), more greens (no real problems with this, just a pain to prepare), and, though I never thought I'd see the day, soy chicken patties.

Oh for the days when eating was as simple as, "Can I have the #2 ... with extra cheese?"