Dear Jess,
Growing up in an Asian household, affection wasn’t given freely, but an abundance of food was. Food was our language. Treating someone to dinner at a restaurant? That’s Food for “I like spending time with you”. Knowing what someone’s favorite dish is and making that for their birthday? That’s Food for “I love you”. Making someone’s favorite food even though you don’t like it one bit? That’s Food for “I’m proud of you”.
When my son was able to eat solid foods, I spoke to my kid in Food by pureeing fruits and veggies and painstakingly squirting it into baby food pouches. He gobbled them up and kept asking for more. I was thrilled that my hard work was accepted and that I was able to nourish his squishy, chubby, little body with custom recipes.
I was killin’ the baby food game!
Then came the toddler years.
Meats, unless they were in the form of a nugget, ball or link, are chewed until it is complete mush and then spit back out. If it’s green, don’t even bother. We only stick to orange veggies– carrots, sweet potatoes, or butternut squash. This kid doesn’t even really like pizza! PIZZA! He eats it upside down, backwards and off of his plate so he only gets the crust and maybe a bit of cheese.
Kiddo eating pizza
I dreaded mealtimes. As soon as he was called down to the table, the whining began. Tears were shed (mostly mine) as I ended up spending an hour trying to feed him a few bites so he wouldn’t wilt into nothingness. I felt completely defeated. My baby who was above average in height and weight throughout his first year had now dropped down to the 25 percentile. Our pediatrician said everything was normal but I couldn’t help but feel like every meal that was rejected without even touching a bite, was personal.
I put a lot of pressure on myself and on the kiddo to eat the food that was put in front of him. I refused to become a “line cook” and only serve what he wanted. As a result, I dreaded dinner time, but I was stubborn and wanted him exposed to things other than “kid food”.
I can’t remember how long this went on. It could’ve been months or maybe even a year—I was delirious by the time I was introduced to a Healthy Eating class through our local Early Learning Center. I was so lucky to have attended this class. Every class had a topic that was introduced and we discussed specific issues we had in a roundtable format. The struggles I had were normalized through discussions with other moms; and even though I had read tons of articles about how to deal with a picky eater, it helped to have other people express these concepts out loud.
It’s been over half a year since I took the class, and while I still sometimes have difficulties practicing the concepts I learned, I feel more in control and effective. Here are some of the lessons I learned and ways I’ve started to teach my kiddo my language of Food:
