Menu: Parenting
By Emily Blake
Updated: November 30, 2015
Originally Published: November 24, 2015
When my daughter was born, I was committed to preparing every meal from scratch. I invested in a top-of-the-line food processor specifically for her baby food creations. I frequented local markets daily in Brooklyn, easily finding fresh ingredients, and crafted exciting dishes—such as a blend of petite peas, roasted butternut squash, and ricotta cheese, or apples and strawberries with a hint of cinnamon.
I envisioned my child developing a diverse palate, and for a time, she did. I imagined us enjoying leisurely Sunday brunches together, where I would sip mimosas while she colored on her placemat, opting for the fish of the day over something drenched in sauce or cheese, all while I smiled approvingly from beneath my oversized straw hat.
Ah, the fantasies of new motherhood. While I knew that the wide-brimmed hat was more of a daydream—my boyish haircut made it appear too masculine—I genuinely believed my daughter would become a great eater. She was, until illness struck, prompting me to offer her a quick chicken nugget at around 16 months old—the type that every parent stashes away for emergencies. She loved it, but after that moment, her eating habits shifted dramatically. Soon, she was sampling birthday cake, pizza slices, and Kraft macaroni and cheese.
Before long, she began rejecting anything that wasn’t coated in sugar, dipped in ketchup, or smothered with cheese. Now, at 2 years old, my daughter exemplifies pickiness, particularly regarding food. If it’s not a carb, she shows little interest. Well, I should clarify; she does enjoy the aforementioned sugary delights and apples. The days of her enjoying vegetables are long gone, and scrambled eggs have been replaced by waffles, goldfish crackers, and PB&J sandwiches daily. This means I often find myself preparing two separate meals, or dealing with the aftermath of her lukewarm French fries and chicken remnants.
I feel a sense of inadequacy—not because I’m failing my daughter; I recognize this phase will pass with time, patience, and the continual task of picking beans off the floor and peaches from her thighs. However, I feel like a failure because, prior to becoming a parent, I was quick to judge other parents of picky eaters. I would watch shows like Maury, particularly the episodes featuring overweight children, and would criticize from my couch, believing it was the parents’ fault. After all, parents control what and when their children eat.
It’s so simple to pass judgment from a distance when you have no real understanding of the challenges of parenting. The truth is, while parents do have a significant role in shaping their child’s diet (I certainly don’t feed my daughter fast food), there are limitations—especially while traveling and only having access to two options at every rest stop. (Thanks for nothing, Connecticut. Really, is it just Dunkin’ Donuts and Subway?)
So to those parents I once looked down upon, for all my eye rolls and snickers at your “kids nuggets with fries” orders, I apologize. I genuinely regret my previous judgments.
But honestly, let’s take a moment to address those nuggets. They are the root of this predicament.
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Summary:
The author recounts her commitment to providing home-cooked meals for her daughter, only to see her eating habits deteriorate after introducing frozen chicken nuggets. The shift led to a reliance on sugary and carb-heavy foods, forcing the author to prepare multiple meals and reflecting on her previous judgments of other parents. The piece concludes with an acknowledgment of the challenges faced by parents in shaping their children’s dietary preferences.