Sometimes I wonder if parenting isn't an extended exercise in abject failure. Okay, maybe that statement is a little too dramatic. Maybe it should be more a matter of learning, every day, every moment, with every breath you take, to lower your expectations. Of yourself. The child has no expectation of you, other than to be nice and feed them and play and sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle' 8000 times at their behest. They don't sit and stew over whether or not they are being properly socialized or watching too much television or getting a balanced diet or going outside to get a boost of vitamin D because it's winter and we all know that we're all vitamin deficient in winter and I've heard that it might be possible that vitamin deficiencies are responsible for learning problems or behavioural problems or was it just mood problems or was that iron?
I thought I understood, before I had children, about how everyone said you worry about them. I thought you worried about their safety and whether they were warm enough and practical things like this. I had no idea about all the lunacy of what is out there in the zeitgeist about today's modern parenting would seep into my psyche and threaten my mental health. There's no chapter in 'What to Expect...' about that. As a matter of fact, that book started it all. Don't eat lunch meat when you're pregnant, don't go near microwaves, stay away from dark haired strangers, they'll put a hex on your unborn fetus and the child will be doomed for all eternity.
So I sit and I stew. And I bounce back and forth between worrying that my not-quite-two year old isn't enrolled in eighteen activities and doesn't have a bevy of playmates for play dates and saying 'Ah *fudge* it, we're just going to sit here and watch Nemo of the 100th time because it makes her happy.' It fatigues me. It really does.
Sometimes I wish there was some sort of parenting quality control, some polite little bureau that checks in with you with a list of boxes to check off every six months or so and says, 'Lots of fruit and veggies? Check. Going to Storytime at the library? Check. Hanging out lots doing fun stuff like colour and Play-Doh? Check. Well, seems to me like you're a jolly good parent then. Keep up the good work. Oh wait, just one more question. Are you singing 'Twinkle, Twinkle' 8000 times a day? Right-o then, carry on.' (Why these people would be British caricatures, I don't really know).
It's really hard not to think you totally suck at this job sometimes, when really it's just you. Which it is, a very large portion of the time. Example; I tried to play with A in the snow this past weekend. I went and dropped $25 bucks on a sled and three minutes into the excursion, I get the familiar mantra 'Alldone alldone alldone!' Three minutes. I don't know why I took it so personally. I guess the effort to reward ratio was a bit one sided, and my feelings were a little bruised. One trip to get the sled, one trip back, get bundled up, three minutes in the fresh air and sunshine (which in itself seems like a monumental feat some days) and I am utterly defeated.
Then there is this whole food issue. All in all, she's a good eater. Really can't complain. Just not a fan of meat and most veggies in their whole state. So with my Christmas Chapters gift card, I bought
Deceptively Delicious by Jessica Seinfeld. I'd seen her schlepping it on Oprah a few years back and then just recently, the follow up cook book. The whole premise is to sneak extra veggies and other good stuff into your cooking in the form of purees. Then you make stuff that kids like already, like mozzarella sticks and burgers and pancakes etc. etc. I'd been kind of doing this stuff anyway, more along the lines of sneaking extra veg in pasta sauces, but I wanted some actual recipes to get an idea of measurements and portions and so forth.
So I got all the veggies and prepped all the purees on Saturday in anticipation of making a weeks worth of recipes to try. Saturday night I made the mozza sticks. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I use recipes the same way I use sewing patterns. Really more of a guideline. The recipe in the book called for cauliflower puree and mozza cheese whereas I had a small chunk of cheddar I wanted to use up before breaking into some new cheese, so I used that and some squash puree (part of the idea is to match up colours, so that the kids don't catch on to the ruse). Also, I didn't plan on using any of the low fat substitutes that were called for in any of the recipes. They creep me out. So does cooking spray. Why use something that comes from an aerosol can when a little bit of olive oil will do? It's not like she needs to watch her calories. Me, that's another story. But we're focusing on her. And I feed her well all of the time. I just need a little peace of mind that she's getting a good balance.
Anyway, I mixed them, froze them briefly (like the recipe said) and lightly pan fried. Look just like mozza sticks, eh? I wasn't sure how they'd be received since A isn't really old enough to have any sort of preconceived notion of what constitutes 'fun' food, other than say, pizza which she really likes or noodles, which she could eat every day of her life and never tire of. So I really played up the whole aspect of them being 'cheese sticks'. Would you like to try some cheese sticks tonight for dinner? See, I made cheese sticks. Aren't these cheese sticks good??? FYI, she really digs cheese.
I was encouraged that she seemed to be taking to them right away. But, a few bites into it and she was spitting it out. Fail. I, on the other hand, thought they were great. Definitely tasted cheesy, with a touch of sweetness. I'll try them again. Maybe it was the breading she doesn't like. Maybe it was the hard sell. Like I was going to get a commission if she ate them up. That'd probably annoy me too.
The next morning I tried the scrambled eggs with the cauliflower puree. I was really skeptical about this one. I like cauliflower (and really, almost all veg), but I wasn't sold on how a puree in eggs would taste. Turns out, quite good. Both she and I ate them all up. Win. That night for dinner she had a choice between my husbands Superbowl chili or my cheese and sweet potato quesidilla (with homemade flat bread. Hubby brought home whole wheat flour for another recipe he tried and I've been endeavouring to use up the bag). The chili won, but only after she refused to eat it in her chair, was excused to the living room (which is my way of not throwing a huge fit myself because she won't eat dinner. It's done wonders for my blood pressure, not to mention likely doing much less damage on my poor daughters future relationship to food), came back to the kitchen and orbited me in my chair, occasionally entering my atmosphere for a spoonful of chili. Whatever. She ate it. Beans and meat and all. I'm still calling it a win. With an asterisk.
Today for breakfast we had french toast with sweet potato puree and we both enjoyed that as well. Overall, I'm calling the book a success. I'm going to try some of the baked goods with the purees, as I'm sure she'd gobble those up no problem. I'm much calmer knowing that she's getting as close to a full compliment of fruit and veg in a day. That part of my crazy internal dialogue has quieted somewhat. Which is nice
The only thing that bugs me about the book is that any time Ms. Seinfeld includes a tip or an anecdote (which are dotted throughout) she refers to 'healthful' food or 'healthful' eating. Is that even a word? If it is, it's awkward. What's wrong with health-Y? It's snobbish nit picking I know. But every time I come across it, it bugs the crap out of me. That's my only complaint.
Also, I made socks.
I wanted them done for my birthday at the end of January, which they were, so I actually got to wear them on my big day. They also qualify for my January Self Imposed Sock Club (a la the Yarn Harlot). Win again. The February pair are in a time out because I'm upset with the pattern. I think they are going to be waaaaay too big. Thinking of starting a different pair. My club, my rules. We'll see. Other than that, I'm either knitting up or have finished some gifts, which I can't talk about. That always seems to be the way.
Until later...
