Before I had kids, I worried about the big things: How could I give them a sense for the wonder of the world and confidence in their place in it? How could I raise good citizens who will give at least as much as they take? Will they still love me when I’m 64?
The basics, I thought, would take care of themselves. When an organism is tired, it sleeps. When it is hungry, it eats. When it needs to eliminate waste … you get the picture. I had no idea how big a role I, as a parent, would play in all those things. And, paradoxically, just how little control I had over their little bodies.
I lost the food battle early: My first never took a bottle. Never. And that lesson hit home hard: What she puts in her body is up to her. All I can do is show her the way and hope she follows. That means that the approach to food at our house is a little different from what I see at some friends’: At our house, if the kids want seconds, thirds, or fourths, I figure they’re hungry and dish up without comment. If they get up from the dinner table without putting a bite in their mouths, so be it.
Well, I’m only that sanguine on the outside. Inwardly, as I scrape plates into the disposal, I’m shouting, “That’s your grandmother’s recipe! Did you know that organic chicken costs nearly $3 a pound? Why do I even bother?!”
Even at the table, all is not peace and joy. I have, on occasion, employed two very useful adages learned at daycare: “You get what you get and you don’t make a fit” and “Eat it, don’t it eat, but don’t talk about it.”
Well, we’re starting to break that last rule, in letter if not in spirit. Lately, we’ve had some fun conversations about our food and where it comes from. This winter, except for a lovely, relaxing two-week stretch when dinner came straight from Trader Joe’s freezer case, dinner has come largely from our Community Supported Agriculture farm share. And the 5-year-old has been heard to remark that, while our farmer’s carrots are nice, she can’t wait for spring when she can have some peas-peek-out-of-the pod.
That’s when I realized she’s finally grasped “seasonality” and I got to thinking that maybe we can finally move beyond the bodily functions phase of parenting and start tackling those big things. And that’s why I bother.
