Earlier this month, I attended a statewide nutrition conference where I got to hear results of some recent research on childhood obesity. I started out listening to the presenter as a nutrition professional, but I ended up hearing her as a parent. Even my notes from that day reflect the mindset change as my scribbles flowed from interesting facts and figures (Georgia has the 2nd highest incidence of childhood obesity; 40% of Georgia children are overweight/obese) to self-reflective questions (Am I doing enough to instill healthy eating habits in my children? Is blaming their pickiness just a cop-out for lazy parenting?).
I heard so much great information that I was at risk of being overwhelmed by at all. They talked about why children are getting bigger and bigger, despite the onslaught of healthy eating info available to today’s parents. They discussed how 75% of parents who are setting their kids up for nutrition failure don’t even recognize the problem in their own homes and therefore see no need to change their behaviors. And they even highlighted the differences and similarities they found in the attitudes of parents who have overweight/obese children. It was…a lot to absorb.
But then the presenter said something that has echoed in my ears many times since then, “All of this boils down to the inability of parents to tell their children no.” GASP. You could’ve heard a pin drop in that arctic cold hotel ballroom.
So this could be my fault???
No way. No how.
It’s definitely NOT my fault that my 1-year-old screams and (literally) turns beet red with anger any time something green…or red…or yellow even touches her high chair tray. Have you ever seen a little brown-skinned baby turn red??? Swing by my house tonight around 6pm, and I’ll entertain you. She was brought into this world with 14 months of breastmilk and many, many, MANY healthy heapings of homemade organic vegetable, fruit, and whole grain purees…some of the most creative wonders available on Pinterest, might I add. So how could the fact that vegetables now make the veins in her temples poke out be my fault?
Certainly, it can’t be the (many) times that I’ve placated her ear-piercing complaints by frisbee-tossing her something from her favorite food group – “processed-artificial-sweet-or-salty-factory-made-yumminess” because I don’t do that very often…or do I? It also couldn’t possibly be the fast-food garbage that I’ve hurriedly thrown into the backseat to quiet meltdowns caused by my poor planning. Or maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for that trembling bottom lip that silently screams, “but mama I need (the entire package of) goldfish.”
And let’s not even get on the 3-year-old. She has a mind of her own. I know God is super busy these days, but I always imagine Him kicking back with a beer sparkling water, throwing his feet up on an ottoman, and chuckling in sheer giddiness as he watches me try to raise this spunky little creation of his. He knew what he was doing, and he thinks it’s funny…and so does my mom. This child doesn’t eat anything for more than 3 days except for scrambled eggs (in large chunks, no cheese please) and yogurt (pink or purple only, in a white cup – the kind with artificial sweetener – NO Stonyfield, Mom!). She despises meat (except those Swedish meatballs that are free at IKEA on Tuesdays) and she only likes plain cheese (but only “big pieces” – grrrr). She won’t eat any fruit besides strawberries, but she does consume tons of fruit. Confused by the difference? Well, she puts it in her mouth, sucks all of the sweet goodness out, and spits out the fiber & nutrient-containing pulp. Every time, folks. And vegetables? This blog post isn’t even long enough to tell you about her and vegetables.
So, Ms. Presenter…is all of that my fault, too???
Well, yes. In a way. While I can’t control what she chooses to eat or if she eats at all, I can control her options. So if she chooses to go to bed hungry each and every night (we’re on night #9 in the latest streak), that’s cool. No problem. She may not eat anything I serve, but she won’t get to demand what will be served. Easier said than done, but after seeing the alternatives, I’m sticking to my guns on this one.
As I retired to my hotel room to process what I’d learned, I settled on a few key takeaways along with the determination that I was about to go “old-school” on my wee ones. There is NO WAY that I’m going down in history as being one of those Gen-X parents whose toddlers ruled the kitchen with iron crying fists. I am not prepared to raise another generation of adults who are addicted to “food-like substances.” Fagettaboutit! I’m going to reignite some of the parenting pizazz (i.e. rules of engagement) that I grew up on – the things my siblings and I sit around and tease our mom about today. I’m committed. All in. Sold out. I will start telling my kids NO…as soon as they finish the popsicles I had to give them in order to write this blog post.
