Mom Declares War on Picky Eating

     I'm tired, tired of being a mom. I'm not saying that I don't like my children, or that I'm giving up. I'm just saying that sometimes the constant struggle of raising children wears on me. I can't physically get a break from this job, but let's just say I took a mental vacation in a stack of library books for a month or so. I got rather lackadaisical about food, TV and video games. Those are the big "3" in my world. You want to eat cereal three meals a day while watching a marathon of "Johnny Test", fine. Get it yourself; I'll be here in my chair reading, sailing around the world with Ferdinand Magellan, drinking my cup of coffee.

The faces I usually see at dinner...

     Don't go getting all worried though, nobody was seriously neglected. I doubt they even noticed. I eventually emerged from a literary trip down the Amazon River, feeling mostly refreshed, but realizing that the children were getting ridiculous in their ideas about what constitutes dinner. One night I cooked two perfectly fine meals, because I needed to use up some ingredients. Family members had their choice between Italian lentil soup or plain meat & potatoes. Evelyn & Garrett rejected both options, and even Meat-o-saurus was giving me a hard time about the soup. I was fuming, while eating my perfectly delicious lentil soup.
      The next day as I fixed lunch Garrett was giving me more of the same. "I don't like this food, I don't like that food." He whined all the way to the end of my patience at which point I went into a rant about how I'd had enough of everyone's picky eating habits. Then I huffed my way over to the craft box for some markers and furiously wrote up this: My Declaration of War on Picky Eating.

Two copies of "The Rules" were posted.
One by the pantry, the other in the dining room.

     When Evelyn came home from school I went over the harsh new food rules with both kids, and then we headed out to the library to return some books. It was there that I spotted this:

     Awesome! I'd been trying to find this book at the library for months now. Impatient children make browsing for books at the library difficult, but this time I wasn't even looking for it. It was just out there on the shelf in plain view like it was waiting for me. What perfect timing for this book to make its appearance.
     The description on the bottom of the title basically summarizes the book for you. It's part memoir, part self-help. It reminded me a bit of reading a 'blog turned book'. I don't know, perhaps it was a blog before it was a book. It was a pleasant read, but best of all it challenged so much of what I had believed about feeding kids.
     I have read so many things giving advice about how to get kids to eat healthy food, but they were all from a North American standpoint. And now that I have read this book, I feel like most of what I read was ridiculous. I have tried having my kids smell their food, lick their food, paying allowance money for their uneaten food. I've had them help make their food, like make-your-own pizzas and sandwich. I've bribed, cajoled, and threatened. Seriously, I feel like I've done it all without any success.
   The French attitude towards feeding their kids is so obvious, so simple, so completely opposite to my American way of child-rearing. After reading this book, my harsh food rules didn't seem so harsh after all. In fact, according to the French they were perfectly reasonable. To summarize the book's rules and not leave you completely hanging: Children are expected eat what you give them and only at appropriate times and places. In the French way of thinking, picky eaters are made not born, so my challenge is to see if I can unmake mine using a new set of rules and a revised eating philosophy. I hope to eventually see new faces at the dining table.
   More to come on my Picky Eaters War using my new found war manual...

The faces I want to see at dinner.

They put what in my food?!!

      Our pantry and frig have undergone a transformation over the past several months, and I've been meaning to write about it.
      Evelyn's friend best summed it up when she went looking for a snack in the pantry and found nothing. She looked at the pantry then looked at me. "You guys must eat out every night," she said.
     

I cleaned and straightened a bit, but you get the idea.

     We have not been eating out though. In fact we've been eating out less, but there's not much in the pantry anymore. One of those doomsday preppers would be horrified by the lack of food in our house. I cleared it out after I saw the 'Foodbabe's yoga mat eating video. ( Foodbabe yoga mat video here ) If you are unfamiliar with the video, the blogger, Foodbabe, talks about the chemical Azodicarbonamide found in Subway's sub rolls, and it's making national headlines right now.
      I was never too interested in learning about food additives and label-reading beforehand. I knew Red dye #40 and other unpronounceable ingredients probably were not good for me or the kids, but seriously, there's only so much in life a person can worry about. However, that entertaining little video caught my interest, and I followed onto the blog to watch some more of her videos. That led to a full-on internet binge.
     You have experienced an internet binge before, right? There's some subject that has you so captivated that you must spend hours, days ignoring your children and chores to find every possible snippet of info you can glean from the internet: the rare disease that WebMD has just convinced you that you have, the trip to Disney World you are planning that must be magically perfect, the day you discovered Pinterest.
      Anyway, the point is once I started reading about food ingredients I couldn't stop for days. When I finally awakened from my internet-induced coma, my eyes went straight to our pantry. I read every ingredient on every box, bag, and packet. Horrified, completely creeped out. That's how I felt upon finally understanding what all those unpronounceable ingredients meant.
      I went through the refrigerator and pantry and threw out at least a garbage bag worth of items.  No more food dye, no more caramel coloring, no more artificial flavoring. Once you eliminate all those crazy ingredients it does not leave a whole lot left with which to stock your food closet. Gone are the days of buying Campbell's tomato soup for my chili or Pillsbury pizza dough cans for our family's pizza Fridays. Kale Kong is evolving once again and rethinking what's for dinner.

Soccer Snack Update

      Evelyn's soccer season has ended and as you remember I had attempted to set the post-game soccer snack precedent of bringing fruit instead of processed snack foods. Well, here is my outcome. I'm making the call, and I'd call this one a failure.
     If I count correctly I had five other parents bring the post-game snack. With my poor memory I can recall seeing Walmart brand granola bars, home-made-from-a-box cupcakes, Gatorade, juice boxes, and those little cracker packets with the spreadable orange cheese on the end.
     Sometimes Evelyn took the snack, sometimes not. It depended on how strongly she was feeling about GMOs that day. Why do I say that? Because she would walk off the field and I'd say, "Evelyn, where's your snack?" And she'd say with a small shake of her head, "It was GMO." Apparently, the GMOs in the cupcakes did not bother her.
     However, there was one bright, shining moment of success. The coach's wife handed out small tangerines when it was her turn to bring snack. She didn't even cut them into wedges. Just, boom! There's your orange. I think I did a little dance and reveled in the awesomeness of it.
     I suppose the grand lesson learned here, was that yes, one must lead by example, but one must also be willing to have the uncomfortable conversations to effect change. I'm just not sure how willing I am yet.

Will Fruit Incite a Pint Sized Riot

      That was the question haunting me this December. You see, I was facing a crisis of conscience versus the threat of stares from angry children. It began when I read a few blog posts at www.realmomnutrition.com condemning the plethora of junky "snacks" that invade sports field every weekend. Sally of realmomnutrition.com writes, "According to a recent study from the University of Minnesota School of Public Health, the average 8 year old burns only 150 calories in an hour of sports - but the typical after-game snack has 300 - 500 calorie." (Clicking on the link up there will take you to the blog post I read.)
     Oh my! I was feeling very convicted after reading this. I am one of those mothers who provides the junky snacks. I believe the last snack I provided for Garrett's soccer team in the Fall season was a bag of chips per the request of the coach's son. And it wasn't just other people's children I'm guilty of poisoning, there were also my own.

I combined the apples & bananas here for the sake of the picture.

     On a typical Soccer Saturday I might have run through a Dunkin Donuts drive-thru, buy the kids crackers at the snack bar, and get them a gatorade at the vending machine. That's painful to write down and admit to. However, I swore to redeem myself with the start of winter soccer season in December. I would start the snack revolution at my soccer field and be the first person to bring FRUIT for the after-game snack. Seriously, in the 4 years that Evelyn has been playing I have never seen anyone bring just fruit. One time a lady bagged some grapes for Garrett's team, but it was accompanied by a cookie. Therefore, I feel it doesn't count.
      Realmomnutrition suggests becoming a "snacktivist", and talking with the coaches and parents about nixing the junk food at snack time. However, being a timid individual, I couldn't bring myself to be that forward about my snack feelings. In my head I imagine myself on an unsteady healthy-food soap box while being surrounded by a mob of fruit-offended parents deriding me for trying to deprive their deserving child of a treat. So I devised my own strategy for the issue. I would volunteer to be snack-mom for the first game thereby setting the snack precedent, hoping others would follow my example. No soap box needed.
     I explained my new-found convictions to the kids, and the evening before game day we ran out to make our purchase: organic apples, conventional bananas, and no juice boxes. There was no complaint from my kids because they love apples and bananas.
    Unfortunately, Evelyn's team was scheduled to play later than usual, and it overlapped the time that I was supposed to be at a ladies' Christmas cookie exchange. (A bit hypocritical to be discussing healthy snacks with children while plotting my escape to a cookie party.) This was problematic because I would have to ask Meat-o-saurus if he would be willing to hand out the snack at the end of the game, so I could leave early. And he knew about the FRUIT.
     Our conversation went a little something like this:
     "Gary, can you hand out snack at the end of Evelyn's game, so I can leave early to go to my cookie exchange."
     "I don't want to be THAT parent," he groans.
     "Come on. Please. I don't want to be late for my party." I beg, highly annoyed.
     He pauses for a second.
     "No. No, I won't do it. I don't want to pass out FRUIT."
     "Fine!" I spat out as I shot daggers of rage from my eyes in the direction of his fruit-prejudiced head.
     If a grown man couldn't handle a piece of fruit, I couldn't imagine what would happen when I opened up my bag of snacks on the soccer field and all the expectant little hands discovered what was inside. Gasp! Would the kids reject me and my fruit? Would they complain openly? Would there be tantrums? Would I receive angry glares of discontent from my fellow soccer parents? The fears were heavy on my weak, introverted soul.

Well at least Santa looks happy to see the apples.

    I planned methodically to optimize the likelihood that the fruit would be accepted. I pulled out two big bright pink bowls - one for the bananas, one for the apples. I pulled all the bananas apart for easy access, and washed all the apples. Then I placed the bowls inside a colorful, happy Santa Claus bag. I felt the kids would be more likely to take the fruit if it was well presented in bright packaging. Finally, I sat uncomfortably anxious through Evelyn's game anticipating snack time.
     When the final whistle blew, I dragged Garrett out with me to help hold one of the fruit bowls, forced a fake smile on my face, and waved over Evelyn's teammates. "Who wants a snack? Do you want a snack? Come get a snack?" I called out.

     Relief. There was no riot, no tantrums, no glares. Only "thank you"s as little hands decided whether to pick an apple or banana. It was a complete non-event considering the amount of time I spent agonizing over it. Plus, I made it to my cookie exchange a little late but still with plenty of time.
     Will my snack experiment have any positive effect on the other parents? I will report back later with the outcome.

In Which I Decide, It's Better To Just Eat Bacon

         My daughter, Evelyn, may be on her way to becoming a vegetarian, but she appears torn. At 7 years old she is more aware of where her food comes from than most kids her age. She's seen the Chipotle scarecrow ad, and I've spent my fair share of time explaining about why we don't eat the sad animals from fast food restaurants anymore. But I've never vilified the actual act of eating meat in general; I still eat it on occasion.
        However, the times I do serve the kids meat (particularly bacon), there's Evelyn, eyes rimmed with tears, lip quivering, and giving me that 'look'.
       "What's wrong, Evelyn?"
       "I love pigs." Sniff, sniff. "Why does bacon have to come from pigs?"
       "Well, you don't have to eat the bacon. You can have something else."
       "But I like bacon. Why can't they make bacon from something that's not an animal?" Munch, munch, munch. Cry, cry, cry.
       It's a pitiful, hilarious sight. Evelyn's mouth doing that sad, droopy, pouty kid thing, confessing her undying love for the cute farm animal, while shoving her grease-dripping, bacon-laden hands into her mouth.
       So on a recent trip to the grocery store I found this: organic tempeh bacon. I bought it for Evelyn with no expectations that she would like it, but figured it was worth a try to fulfill her non-animal bacon dreams, a move I regret.

      Several nights later when the food supplies in the house were running on empty, I was making Meat-o-saurus an omelet. I didn't have any meat to put inside the omelet, so I decided to slip some of that tempeh into it. (I derive sick pleasure in forcing the Meat-o-saurus to unknowingly ingest vegan foods against his will.) Unfortunately on this night, he was hovering in the kitchen, waiting for dinner to be done. He was screwing up my evil cooking plans. I had the Tempeh sitting on the counter ready for deployment, but with Meat-o-saurus close by, discovery was imminent. I broke out in a cold sweat, quickly shoving it behind a canister.
      Thankfully, he eventually lost interest in the cooking process and retreated into his man cave. So I ripped into the Tempeh, but my momentum was totally thrown off by what I saw in the package. This was not what the happy picture on the box looked like. This looked like someone chopped off their finger, soaked it in lye, and then vacuum sealed it in plastic. (Sorry to be gruesome, just being honest.) And the smell! Oh, the smell! Something akin to wet dog food.

     I'm so sorry, Tempeh company! I really wanted to like you, because you are doing the right and noble thing by bringing organic, plant-based food to the masses. But this product is so, so wrong.
     I hesitated, unsure of my next move. To use or not to use. In retrospect I think the choice should have been obvious. Steel yourselves! I heated up the pan and threw the offending food item in anyways.  I use stainless steel cookware, so I did get a nice crust on it. It didn't improve the looks of it much though, and certainly not the smell.
     I gave one piece to Evelyn, cringe. I explained that it was no-meat bacon like she wanted, and she could try it but didn't have to eat it all if she didn't want to. One taste and it's no surprise that it was rejected. I rushed her a glass of water, because I knew. I knew that was a flavor that needed to get off her palate immediately.
    However, there was still that omelet. I took the other piece of fried Tempeh and cut it into small pieces because, of course, it didn't crumble like bacon does. But the smell! I wavered. Could I really get away with this?!! I decided to only use half of it. Sick, right? Why didn't I just throw it out? I folded it into the omelet along with onions, cheese and swiss chard, then delivered it to my victim. He looked down at his plate expectantly, excited. I quickly exited the man cave, rounded the corner, and waited nervously outside the door for discovery and the inevitable comment, "What's in this?!!".
    No comment came, just the empty plate. Oh, and remorse. Remorse came. Guilt for food crimes against my family.
     I have decided that if it comes down to it, just eat bacon. Actually, I have stopped buying bacon for the family, because I have yet to find any organic pork products at my local grocery store. I, personally, have no desire to eat bacon ever again. Just looking at it, fills my head with pictures of dissected hearts with clogged arteries. But I'm merely saying that if for some reason I had an insatiable craving for a BLT that could not be tamed, I would just eat the real thing.

Organic Corn

     See what I mean about that second job?!
(as mentioned in previous post)

Chili and the Great Debate: Organic v. Local

     Still no oven here at the Arntson house. So "Pizza Friday" has been discarded, but yet to be replaced. This Friday I had some leftover cooked ground beef and chopped onions from "Spaghetti Monday" that needed to be used, so I decided to make it into chili. I'm pretty sure the experts say that you should only keep your leftovers for three days. However, since Gary was eating it, not me, my 'I could care' meter was pointing towards 'less'.
     Because my half of the chili would be vegetarian, I needed some veggies to put in it. Lately at the grocery store I've struggled between whether to buy organic or local produce. Organic veggies have no pesticides (very Eco-friendly choice), but they are frequently individually wrapped in plastic and shipped from CA (not so Eco-friendly choice). Whereas I can buy the local produce without all the plastic and long truck rides, but I know they're coated in what is essentially poison. Hmmm, decisions, decisions.

These were my sauteed veggies, ostracized
from the chili base because meat-o-saurus
has a prejudice against each of these vegetables

      In general, I don't mind spending an extra buck here and there for the organic. Apples, carrots, onions, celery, and potatoes are all pretty reasonable, and they come in decent sized bags. If you want a green pepper, pear, zucchini or ear of corn...well, you better get a second job to pay for it.
     On this day, they didn't have any organic green peppers anyway, so I bought the regular kind along with an eggplant. The zucchinis were labeled "fresh from FL" and oh, so tempting, but I read recently that zucchinis are among the newest GMO crops. Since the United States government refuses to let us label GMOs (Hello, Obama, I hope you are reading this), I was suspicious of that zucchinis' parentage. Thus I winced with monetary pain while grabbing the two dollar, individually plastic-wrapped, minuscule, organic zucchini. This zucchini was so small; I've eaten pickles bigger than this zucchini.
     Some day I aspire to join one of those co-ops where you pick up a bag of assorted non-plastic wrapped, organic produce once a week. I also some day aspire to buy a new oven. Motivated, I am not. With all that said, here's my chili recipe and a run down of who ate what.

This was my chili base

       Sarah's Chili

Ingredients for chili base:

1 Tbls vegetable oil                     1 can Mild Rotel Tomatoes

1 yellow onion, chopped             1 Tbls brown sugar

2 cloves garlic, minced                1 can condensed tomato soup

2 Tbls chili powder                     1/2 tsp dried oregano

1/2 tsp cumin                               1 tsp salt

1/2 cup water                               1 can kidney beans, drained & rinsed

                                                    1 can black beans, drained & rinsed

Directions:

In large pan over medium heat, saute onions until translucent. Add garlic, chili powder and cumin, and stir about 30 seconds until fragrant. Stir in the rest of the ingredients. Bring to boil, reduce to simmer. Simmer over low heat 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Serve over white or brown rice with your 'stir-in'. Top with hot sauce, avocado, or cheese.

Meat-o-saurus stir in: left-over, all-ready-cooked ground beef reheated in the microwave

Kale Kong stir in: 1 zucchini, 1 peeled eggplant, 1 green pepper, all cut into large pieces, tossed in 1 Tbls olive oil & 1 tsp Pampered Chef's "Chili Lime Rub", then sauteed until slightly soft.

Meat-o-saurus had his meaty chili over white rice
and topped with cheddar, avocado & Tabasco's 'Green Chili Sauce'.

Kale Kong had her veggie chili over white rice and topped with
avocado and Chipotle Tabasco Sauce. Bring on the heat!

       I withheld some of the kidney & black beans from the chili pot, so I could served the kids unadulterated beans over rice. Each kid got their "correct" color of cheese, and a side of sliced peaches. Evelyn had an additional side of avocado which Garrett will not eat. Baby was served, but did not eat. Gary gave me a dirty look for making the baby wait while I photographed her food. However, she dispensed with the plate the second it hit her high chair tray. She typically likes chili, avocado & peaches, so I think she just wasn't hungry this time.