So today we faced another out-of-the-ordinary meal since I'm going out for the night (who doesn't know this at this stage??) and didn't want to cook, so we ordered-in.
I ordered spaghetti bolognaise for the kids, from a lebenese/Italian (?) place in the mall. Don't get me wrong, it's not like they've never eaten spag bol, it's just that normally when we order-in we order pizza. The boys were happy enough although nine year old girl complained that it wasn't pizza. Innately truculent, it's not so much the food of the new regime that she objects to, but rather the power that I've retrieved. Being the only two women in the house there is a constant power struggle between us and often she wins. In this instant I've said 'I don't care if you don't like what I'm feeding you, I won't give in'. This is causing problems.
I set the pattern early, I see that now. As a baby I had plans to feed her organic spinach and bottle-fed spring lamb, strawberries from the garden and organic yoghurt. Of course, once I landed back down on earth I realised that what was on offer was cow&gate baby jars, which seemed just as good. However, heating up a jar of Lancashire-hot-pot, I found myself gagging at the smell. As I attempted to feed her it quickly became apparent she felt the same way and spat it right back at me.
I tried various other flavours, parsnip, carrot, potato and leek, but with the same result until I gave in and fed her what she preferred: Petit filous and apple puree. And that's how it's continued.
Tomorrow I shall be tracking down some healthy snack foods to replace the mandatory cheetos or kit kats they ask for while out (and to clarify, I don't keep crisps, sweets or fizzy drinks in the house, but they have these things when we go out all the time -- it's often a matter of trying to pacify them in the supermarket queue where I'm constantly asked 'mum, can I have this?')
Oh, and the weetabix went down well again this morning and they all ate their lunches no problem. I'm beginning to feel I just wasn't trying hard enough up to this point -- like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the answer was in my own back yard all along, I just didn't know where to look (you get the analogy, right?)!
I ordered spaghetti bolognaise for the kids, from a lebenese/Italian (?) place in the mall. Don't get me wrong, it's not like they've never eaten spag bol, it's just that normally when we order-in we order pizza. The boys were happy enough although nine year old girl complained that it wasn't pizza. Innately truculent, it's not so much the food of the new regime that she objects to, but rather the power that I've retrieved. Being the only two women in the house there is a constant power struggle between us and often she wins. In this instant I've said 'I don't care if you don't like what I'm feeding you, I won't give in'. This is causing problems.
I set the pattern early, I see that now. As a baby I had plans to feed her organic spinach and bottle-fed spring lamb, strawberries from the garden and organic yoghurt. Of course, once I landed back down on earth I realised that what was on offer was cow&gate baby jars, which seemed just as good. However, heating up a jar of Lancashire-hot-pot, I found myself gagging at the smell. As I attempted to feed her it quickly became apparent she felt the same way and spat it right back at me.
I tried various other flavours, parsnip, carrot, potato and leek, but with the same result until I gave in and fed her what she preferred: Petit filous and apple puree. And that's how it's continued.
Tomorrow I shall be tracking down some healthy snack foods to replace the mandatory cheetos or kit kats they ask for while out (and to clarify, I don't keep crisps, sweets or fizzy drinks in the house, but they have these things when we go out all the time -- it's often a matter of trying to pacify them in the supermarket queue where I'm constantly asked 'mum, can I have this?')
Oh, and the weetabix went down well again this morning and they all ate their lunches no problem. I'm beginning to feel I just wasn't trying hard enough up to this point -- like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, the answer was in my own back yard all along, I just didn't know where to look (you get the analogy, right?)!
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