At 3 years old, Parker is “out of the woods” as far as health concerns go. He’s been out of the woods for a while. He still doesn’t weigh as much as he probably should- but it’s also not in any kind of range that could be considered alarming. Just an average kid.
That being said, his health problems as an infant did make for some frustrating habits as a child- and one of those that stems, I think, directly from all of his prior eating issues and stomach condition, is picky eating.
I am not kidding or exaggerating when I tell you that I get anxiety about meal times because the kid is SO damn picky and stubborn and frustrating and a lot of other words that aren’t appropriate for his age.
Even though we’re not in occupational or speech therapy anymore, back when we were about 2 months ago, his speech therapist told me that he was refusing food NOW not because of his past illness, but because he’s an asshole.
Ok, she didn’t say asshole. That’s totally my word. She said “stubborn”- but let’s not play games here, she really meant asshole and we all know it. It’s terrible toddlerhood full-force, mixed with a hatred of trying ANY new foods due to aversion.
|the face, yes; but my weirdo happens
to LOVE veggies. spaz.
Parker, essentially, is the double-threat of picky eaters. All other picky eaters should look up to him and bow to his masterful skillz. The kid puts ” shy woman on a first date trying not to look like a cow and refusing to eat anything except for half a crouton and a sip of water” to SHAME.
It’s not that he hates food- it’s that he can’t decide whether he hates it TODAY or maybe TOMORROW.
Oh, so he snarfed down a ham sandwich yesterday? Let’s do that again today, that was AWESOME and it didn’t take 45 minutes to finish lunch for once!
What do you mean you don’t want a ham sandwich? But you loved it yesterday!
as he sits there gagging and “MM-MM”ing in head-shakes of adamant refusal.
Why yes, it is incredibly frustrating.
When it comes to parenting, people tell you that you have to pick your battles. Pick your battles and pick them WISELY, because if you battle over insignificant shit- they won’t care when you pull out the big guns for a colossal fuck up. It’s a slippery slope, and sometimes you just WANT to jump on their ass for saying or doing something they shouldn’t have… but is it worth it? Ehhhhh, probably not.
Save your mojo, mamas and dadas.
I learned to save mine for dog hitting, brother slapping, and dinner time.
I fight with that kid SO often at dinner, that when he finally DOES eat without having exhaust myself begging, pleading, positive reinforcing, bribing, and threatening- no matter WHAT IT IS… I let him have it.
We’re not talking cookies, chips, and cakes here people- we’re talking weird, disgusting, and downright barf-tastic concoctions from hell. We’re talking one food, dipped or slathered with another food it should never be dipped or slathered in.
|This is next, I know it.
Pardon me while I spew.
This takes an awful amount of restraint on my part, because as much as I’d like to yell “HOW CAN YOU EAT THAT??” and then go heave into the pot, I sit and silently watch him- and wonder how this child refuses to eat 75% of deliciously delicious desserts, meats (other than bacon bits), and addictive assortments of cheez-its- will take a chicken nugget, and the only way he will eat it on a certain day is to plunk it into a vat of sour cream.
Weird, but not totally horky. And then he goes and insists on dipping his cooked vegetables in honey. Pure honey.
Well, at least he’s eating vegetables! And CHICKEN! He’s actually eating chicken! Who cares what he’s dipping it in? WEEEE MEAT! PROTEIN!
Then one morning you’re out to breakfast at a diner joint; the type of place that serves breakfast all day- and Parker, who has decided on pancakes but refuses to fucking TOUCH them as if they have insulted his mother (awww he stuck up for me!)- steals a french fry off of your plate. You ask if he wants ketchup, cause y’know… ketchup is a normal dipping sauce- right?
He proceeds to dip it into his unused ramekin of syrup and scarf it down. You go into cardiac arrest just watching; but he didn’t eat breakfast, so as much as you are opposed to this level of fatkidness, you let it go.
I think I have to save my food-fight juice for the day I catch him eating spoonfuls of mayo straight out of the jar, dumping milk on the carpet (no use crying over spilled milk, my ass!), and if he ever dares to refuse bacon (that’s downright blasphemy). And that’s only until the age of 5. After that it’s gloves off!
As my mama always said: You don’t like it? LUMP IT.
10 Going on 20: The Spicy Chicken Story goo.gl/fb/qqm3FZ
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😂😂😂 I never knew we had so much in common pic.twitter.com/Yu4ytvgmOp
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