Ordinary Frustrations

I begin today with the evolution of a picky eater.

Our dearest Eliza has always liked to eat. The introduction of rice cereal was easily accepted. Being the "wise" first time parent, I introduced vegetables first. Her baby food preferences, may look similar to your own child's (past, current or future).

• Carrots
• Sweet Potato
• Squash
• Pears
• Peaches
• Banana
• Apple
• Fruit medley
• etc.

I wasn't losing sleep over the fact that she rejected the jar of strained peas. How could I hold such an expectation when my own eye balls watered at the smell? The introduction of table food followed with smashing success. I felt like I was officially apart of the Mom Club when "frozen chicken nuggets" became a regular item on my grocery list.

BLAST THOSE CHICKEN NUGGETS!

I now say.

Mentally checking my time line, we're now hovering around her first birthday. I nursed both of my children until they were 15 months of age for one simple reason; I am a sentimental schmuck who has a hard time letting go. Knowing she was still receiving those nutrients and over all accepting much of what we offered, my Mom ego was fully intact.

While living in Germany (Eliza age 12-14 months), we had limited freezer space. Those dangerous and addictive (I'm being dramatic) child staples weren't available. My cooking repertoire expanded, Eliza was eventually weaned (a positive pregnancy test will do that to you) and my expectation remained the same.

We returned to the States. I was over confident that her eating patterns were established. My new found love for cooking diminished. Our little apartment didn't have a dish washer, the counter space was limited and I swear, the sink was NEVER free of dishes. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Living there, with a Grandmother we cherish, was a huge blessing that enabled me to stay at home full time. It's a poor excuse but I soon chose easy over effort when it came to meal time.

My golden girl who could do no wrong suddenly started to refuse common food items. An example that comes to mind is scrambled eggs.

"What the heck?" I'd think aloud. She ate them almost everyday in Germany.

"You had these last week!" Smiling back at me, I'd imagine her mental reply,

"Mom, I don't remember what happened five minutes ago." And just like that, if she didn't recognize something, she wanted nothing to do with it.

I was at a loss. And still am.

I went to my sister for advice. I consulted her Pediatrician. I GOOGLED!!!

Apparently, it is "normal" for a child to have a picky phase. Eliza was normal. Whatever that means. The guilt I felt didn't abate. Around "age 4" a child's eating habits return. Or so I read.

Her passion for eating never went away. Her list of what she would eat was still full of healthy choices, but the fact that she wouldn't try something new was beyond frustrating. My endeavor to cook healthy meals, although simple, returned. When we moved to the South, I REALLY embraced the power of a kitchen. My husband is profoundly grateful. I no longer shrink form a recipe that calls for a clove of garlic or a sprig of Rosemary.

My goal last year was to make dinner time a look forward to event. If I cooked one meal for Andrew, Henry and myself and gave Eliza a cup of applesauce and a few pieces of turkey, all was well. For the past year, I've written meal plans in two week intervals. For Henry's sake, they include familiar menu items as well as new. If we're having left overs, I may throw open a can of corn to accompany the dish.

"See Henry... THIS IS CORN! Remember, how you LOVE corn? Oh great, YOU STILL DO!!"

Part of his willingness to try may be a little piece of genetic awesomeness. Echoing his Grandmother, Andrew will say:

"Henry just knows what's good" as we watch him pick a sugar snap pea straight from the garden. THE KID EATS EVERYTHING. Whatever is green on his plate is consumed first. Still, I believe that Henry is doing his part because his Mom learned her lesson.

As for Eliza...

She is the first to ask how soon until it's time for snack at preschool. Of her friends, she eats the most (usually). She is also the most fierce in her rejection when something is offered that she doesn't have a memory of eating. Sometimes I lie to her (*GASP*) and tell her that she has had that before and that she liked it (ie: muffins). Occasionally, it pays off and she'll eat it. And you know what? I FEEL NO REMORSE for my deceit.

Now that she's four, Andrew and I have decided that my days of making "two dinner meals" are over. After spending hours on a meal, I'd stand back and think,

"Okay, great. Now what am I going to make for Eliza?" It's been incredibly annoying, but dinner time has been consistent and pleasant.

We tried the "force her" route. That involved her crying at the table for hours. She'd ask to sit in my lap and snuggle. Wanting to please us, she'd take a bite of something new. Ladies and Gents, she's honestly terrified. After eons of time, she chokes it down. A half second later, she throws it back up.

Our new method goes something like this:

This is what Mom made for dinner. Please try it. If you don't try it, you can't eat until breakfast tomorrow.

Some parents will judge us as being too harsh, others will say we've been to soft. I'd agree with both parties! Is it silly that this is what my prayers have revolved around? I am striving to learn what it means to qualify for personal revelation and how to receive it. My primary reason for doing so is because I need divine help in helping this sweet child have the courage to eat better. Not to mention, Henry is well equipped with his own set of challenges (a blog for another day). The bottom line: Motherhood is hard.

Our nights continue to be pleasant despite her consistent dinner time rejection. Dinner has been lonely without her cheerful countenance as she'll opt to sulk in another room. I'll look at Andrew and tell him that I miss her. After a family walk and quick bath, she soon asks for a piece of bread. My will power wanes. Andrew quickly reminds me that if I give in, she'll reject dinner every night knowing that she'll receive a piece of bread.

Last night, as Andrew and Henry finished their dinner, I headed upstairs to print off my grocery list for my bi-monthly shopping trip. I found Eliza wrestling with her personal demons on the stairs. We had a conversation about how Heavenly Father will help her to be brave as she learns to try new food. I encouraged her to go tell Him all about it. She asked a few questions and our little chat ended.

As I waited for my document to print, I leaned over the railing to see if she was still there. I observed that her face was buried in her arms. She was in a kneeling position. I realized that she was in the middle of following through on my suggestion. I wanted to cry as I listened to her pray.

"Thank you Jesus for helping me to be brave to try new food..." My heart soared and ached. I prayed along with her; hoping that my faith would add something to hers. Still, she opted against her plate of food.

We've tried the reward system, fully entailed with a sticker bite chart. Andrew offered the following.

"If you try some dinner, we'll go to the swimming pool."

"I don't want to go swimming." She simply replied. And then last night I said;

"If you try some dinner, I'll buy a big box of chocolate pudding at the store." I saw her resolve waver. She might cave! Oh the holy cup of chocolate pudding; a true favorite. I'm being completely honest when I say that she'd prefer a batch of shots at the Doctor's office over trying new food. It scares her that much.

I understand that other Mom's are dealing with issues and problems on a scale that are so much greater than this. As much as this frustrates me, I realize that there will come a time in my life where I'll laugh to think that one of my deepest frustrations came from the uneaten food on the plastic green plate.

The obvious plea remains: do you have any suggestions, if not wish us luck!