Remember when your children were babies? When you spoon-fed them all the things and they eagerly awaited it with anticipation until they spit it out and you all had a good giggle about how silly baby was to not like a certain food? Times they are a-changin’ and those little critters grow up to be little opinionated monsters precious little angel gems who eat all the things.
False. They do not do that thing. Instead, when you should have been prepping them by feeding them with foods that are the colors of the rainbow, you instead were trying to survive those early years of motherhood, find some semblance of sleep, and not drive yourself crazy.
So THEN, when you get to the age and stage that you think you might be able to do a different form of force feeding (You will eat what I made for dinner OR ELSE…), I have found that dealing with a picky eater is akin to managing their stages of vegetable grief when you attempt to get them to eat a single cherry tomato {ahem}.
Denial
“You never eat anything HEALTHY!” and they suddenly deny this claim. They deny the truth and instead choose to argue with you about that one time they ate a single carrot that was swimming in a vat of ranch dressing. They deny their disgust for all things plant related and instead insist that they have lived the life of a vegetarian – based on a single serving.
Anger
They suddenly realize you mean business. Now they are having none of it. They are furious with you for presenting them with such an offering. Tantrums, yelling, screaming, slamming doors – HOW DARE YOU TRY TO MAKE ME GROW UP HEALTHY AND STRONG.
Bargaining
They come back to the table calmly. Perhaps a little negotiation is in order. You offer a peace treaty – game time in exchange for a nibble, trying a new thing each day in exchange for your peace of mind, WILLING that blasted child to try any single solitary bite of garden goodness. You each bring something different to the table – he seems to be winning. You simply find your patience being bargained away.
Depression
I’m not sure who is more depressed – you for wasting an evening watching your five-year-old resist vegetable arrest or him for coming to the realization that he might actually have to consume said item before the night is over. You both stare at one another in defeat – wondering who will break first, but also exhausted that you are still on this journey to plant-filled apathy.
Acceptance
The evening is winding down. No amount of bargaining has swayed this picky eater. You are exhausted from trying. He is relentless in his resistance. You are not sure whether to give up or press on. The sun is setting, your will is almost broken, and bedtime is nearing. You give him the last ultimatum, “DO THIS or the offer is off the table tomorrow. I MEAN IT. Fine. Don’t eat it. You get nothing else. BUT I AM SERIOUS – TOMORROW – YOU WILL TRY SOMETHING NEW AND EAT IT AND LIKE IT.”
Then he joins you for a snuggle on the couch because you are both exhausted from that blasted cherry tomato and he promises to try again tomorrow to test your patience.
The good news is that when he’s a teenager all of this will become a distant memory as you beg him NOT to eat everything that isn’t tied down.
I feel your pain, momma. I still remember when my eldest son literally became boneless and oozed under the table because I dared to offer him asparagus. That child is 21 now, and STILL won’t touch asparagus. Or brussel sprouts.