I think that my boys think that I am a super model.
“Why?” you may ask. Is it my svelte 5’10” willowy frame? My gorgeous long blonde hair? The plague of the paparazzi outside our front door? Well, could be, IF I had any of those things.
I rarely eat in front of my children. “Oh, no!” you gasp. “What kind of mother is this? Does she not know the value of sharing a mean with her family? Does she not know the oodles of research that support the decline of childhood obesity when families eat together? Or that families who share a meal have better communication and fewer arguments? Someone call child protective services!!”
OK, OK. You’re right I do know all that, but here’s my problem.
I never get to eat in front of my children.
My boys are currently 22 months and while I would not label them as picky, getting them to eat can be tricky. I consider it a huge triumph if we all eat the same dinner.
Now, having said that, that doesn’t mean that my children actually eat from their own plates. There is something mystic about eating from Mommy and Daddy’s plate. The flavors MUST be fuller, the textures more inviting when coming from that magical adult size fork, even when they have the exact same thing on their plate.
My boys are also not small eaters, so I because of this I do not get much of what I prepare for myself. This has been a blessing and a curse. Because my plate is soooo fascinating; unbeknownst to them they are connoisseurs of eggplant, salmon, feta, cucumbers, olives, zucchini and many other things that never fail to shock me, but put that stuff on their plates and forget it.
Strangely enough, I won’t eat off of their plates. Mostly because I do not know if I am full. “Did you eat all that or did I?” I would hate for them to be hungry. So maybe there really is something bewitching about my plate and fork???
Is this a problem? Or should I just take up eating pickled herring (I’m pretty sure we would ALL lose weight if I did that)?
Demara, mom to 22-month old fraternal twin boys