"The Taco Incident" (Or why I no longer force-feed my children.)

This past week I read an article about ways to help your children develop a healthy body image. It basically comes down to this: Lying on the bed, trying to squeeze into our jeans and complaining about changing metabolism is bad. Promoting healthy food choices is good. Talking about diets or food restrictions and using the “f-word” (as in fat) is bad. Promoting lots of activity and movement is good. The writers made it clear that we, the parents, are responsible for setting a good (and healthy) example. Well, two points for me then because I exercise on a fairly consistent basis. They should know, however, that you are doing this as a way to be healthy and strong and not as a way to fit into the aforementioned jeans. (Darn,make that minus two points for me.) I find the whole healthy eating, positive body image, don’t want them to be part of the obesity epidemic, but don’t want them to struggle with anorexia dilemma completely overwhelming.


And if this article wasn’t enough, it seems as if every time I turn around, some headline reads: “Supper tonight: No fail recipes that even the pickiest eater will eat." Really? Every child? ‘Cause I am here to tell you that my children will Prove. You. Wrong. I started out with the best of intentions. In the beginning, I bordered on judgmental; failing to understand how children became picky eaters. I had listened to Dr. Phil about bringing supper out for breakfast the following morning and Super Nanny with her, “Eat this in the next 5 seconds or you will be in timeout.” I listened to Rachel Ray and how children are picky because we are picky and I say to all of them, “You were wrong!” Somewhere along the way, I know that I failed. I went soft. But the truth is I don’t want the dinner table to become a battle field. I’m tired of forcing vegetables down only to see them come right back up. I will never forget pressuring my then 3 year old son into eating a soft-shell taco. He gagged and threw it all back up. His older cousin who happens to have a very real fear of sick people was sitting next to him and more than two years later he still refers to it as “The Taco Incident.” I don’t think he’ll ever get over it.

I understand that my children need nutrients and fuel for their growing bodies. I nursed them both for a full year because the research said that would give them the healthiest start (well that, and because it burns calories like crazy!)We have egg sandwiches and milk for breakfast. We have turkey and cheese for lunch. We eat yogurt and healthy cereal. We eat 7 grain bread (which, I know isn’t the same as whole wheat, but don’t push me on this.)I get it. I really do, but I’m not willing to sacrifice the very precious hour that is dinner, with whining and vomiting and sitting for hours on end until we eat that last carrot. (And please don’t tell me to serve it with ranch, because I did that and my 2 year old daughter just licks it off, and now, we have a love affair with ranch but still “no likey” the veggies.)

So yesterday we were on our way to school when my son, Coulter, declared that he didn’t want to go. He loves school, so I knew he was just being silly, but I explained to him how there are children in other countries who can’t afford uniforms and so they don’t get to go school and we should just be grateful everyday for the opportunity to learn. During the conversation, I remembered something else from the body image article: we are supposed to be grateful for our bodies. So I continued with Coulter (trying to earn my 2 points back,) “And we should be thankful for our minds that help us learn and our strong legs that can run and our strong arms for throwing balls.” “Uhm, yeah, o.k. Mom. Can I get out now?”

And you know, maybe I’m setting an o.k. example after all because the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how truly grateful I am for my strong body. As a “pageant girl,” I’ve had my fair share of body image issues (and trust me when I say that I'm not a picky eater and at one time I had an extra 15 lbs. to prove it!) and yet I walked the runway in Atlantic City in a swimsuit with this body and almost ten years later, these strong legs ran a marathon. Yes, I am thankful each day for my health and for the health of my children. I’m not perfect, but I will do my best to set a good example. I will hide the chocolate and eat the donuts in secret. I will exercise purely for the endorphins; with no mention of jeans or buttons. And who knows, maybe one day that no-fail recipe will truly be no-fail. Until then, we’ll just keep poppin’ our Flintstones and banking on all that great nutrition they got in that first year of life!