The Fuss About Food

I made a lovely meal plan for the week on Monday morning. I spent a little extra time considering what I had in the cupboards, and made my plan based on things that I already had on hand. Imagine that. After making my shopping list, I got the kids off to school, packed the youngest into the car, and off we headed to the grocery store (the one with the trucks.) I've decided that the fact that the groceries are slightly more expensive is OK with me because the truck shopping-cart makes my time at the store with an obnoxious almost three year old, slightly easier.

We had an ideal trip. I found everything on my list for a week's worth of dinners and we had no melt-downs. We were out of the store in 30 minutes having only spent $48, and having only purchased things that were on my list.

Oh, it all started so well.

We are now on day three of the week, and so far I have made ONE of my planned meals. And the kids hated it. They ate Cheerios for dinner (and I've been finding those crunched up little buggers all over the house ever since.) I'm so tired of fixing meals that three of us will eat, while the other two have peanut butter on bread.

There we have it, my kids are picky eaters. But, not in any normal way. My oldest loves calamari and broccoli, but would rather DIE than eat corn or a hamburger. My boy adores Chinese food and mujhadra (a middle eastern lentil & rice dish) but refuses to sit at the table if macaroni and cheese (even the awesome homemade stuff) is being served. And then there's that littlest one.... she just doesn't eat. Her entire diet consists of yogurt, ham, pirate's booty, bread (but don't you dare toast it or put butter on it) and water. Sometimes, she'll beg me for an apple (cut up, no peels) and after all that effort will look disparagingly at it, and attempt to throw it in the garbage. She's 27 puny pounds of obstinance.

Every once in a while, the stars will align and I'll create a meal that everyone likes. (The last time it was chicken & broccoli stir fry, but that's no assurance that if I make the exact same thing again anyone will eat it.) Even when that miraculous event occurs, I'll be half way through loading up the dishwasher after dinner and someone will come in and utter my two least favorite words in the English language, "I'm hungry." AAAAAAHHHHHH.

I'll admit that from time to time I'll read the blog of another woman who has young children, and I'll hear about them eating salmon or Swiss chard and how much they LOVE it, and I think, "yeah, right."

So, here's my question to the universe at large. How do you feed your children nutritious meals that all of them will actually eat? And then, to make matters all the more complicated, how do you lose weight while doing so? Inquiring minds want to know.

Am I Back in the Saddle?

Let us just ignore the fact that it has been an age since my last post, shall we? My first year with this little blog has been hit and miss, but I do find a certain sense of comfort in knowing that it is here. A little place for my thoughts to rest. Unfortunately, it seems I haven't had many lately.



With the new year upon us, I am optimistic and hopeful that my tiny little corner of the blogosphere will become a more active place. I know that will make my mother happy. (Hi, Mom.)



Like the rest of you out there, I have been contemplating the multitude of possible New Year's Resolutions that I could make for 2010. How much weight to lose? How many books to read? How much to exercise? How much TV to cut out? How to be a better mom? How to be a better wife?



I've decided that my resolutions all boil down to one mega-resolution. For the year 2010, my resolution is ... to pay attention.



I figure that will cover everything from catching my almost 3 year old BEFORE she scribbles all over the couch with a Sharpie again to feeding my kids less fast-food; from hopefully gaining a little control over my health to gaining a little more control over my happiness.



With this resolution firmly in mind, I'm off to start the dishwasher and put myself to bed early. Starting small.

Mornings

My alarm rang at 6:30 this morning. And then again at 6:38, 6:46, 6:52, 7:00 and 7:08. Then, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed, and went to fake my way through cheerful "good mornings" with my children, who were all about as happy to get out of bed this morning as I was. Unfortunately, this is not a rare occurrence. As a family, we just aren't morning people.



I've had a few good mornings in my life. You know, Christmases and mornings when I'm totally jet-lagged and miraculously wake up at 6 a.m. bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. (Wow, that's a strange expression.) I love those mornings, and the lovely, long days that follow.



Inevitably, no matter how lovely, I just can't sustain mornings. The reality of watery eyes, dry mouth, stuffy nose, sore feet, and general grumpiness sets in. I sleep later than I want, I am short tempered, and then feel perpetually guilty because of it.



All that being said, my own sense of optimism prevails. Every night, I set my alarm, and vow to do better the next day. Maybe one of these days, I will.

Observations.

I will use this, my first post from Utah, to take a moment and share with you my observations of this place we, once again, call home.

1. There is something about mountains that can take you away from yourself, out of the chaos of the mind and the world, and make things good. A change of perspective (literally) is always healthy.

2. There are some really rockin' new restaurants in Utah Valley. We went to Rooster for my birthday, and I stuffed myself so full of dumplings, that I didn't have the chance to try the lava cake. Must go back soon. The one thing I have yet to find is a satisfactory bagel. They say there is something about NY water that makes for the best bagel, and I'm willing to believe that.

3. Going to church here feels like being at a runway show. The hair, the makeup, the shoes, the clothes. I spend my time at church with chewed up goldfish crackers on my shoulder and my two year old's head up my skirt. (Why do kids think that lifting their mother's skirt in public is so funny?) I feel "done up" when I've got mascara on and my hair is clean. I've even on occasion been known to wear my Birkenstocks to church. I'm a little bit out of my league. I need some help from my friends at HACD.

4. Not to state the obvious but, there are A LOT of Republicans here. I'm afraid to wear my Obama on Mt. Rushmore T-shirt out in public. It's strange coming from New York where I was considered conservative to Utah where I feel like a rebellious liberal. Ah, the power of the eye of the beholder.

5. I really have to start running. Apparently, it's the thing to do. The more miles the better. Unfortunately, I don't think I could run from my front door to the mailbox, so I have some work to do.

Lists

So, I'm one of those people who makes lists when under stress. Last night, I realized I'd reached a new low when I started making a list of the lists that I need to make. I wasn't even thinking about the list I'm secretly making for my husband. He loves those!

This afternoon, I'm feeling a little more in control. Unfortunately, it's all because I'm home with an eight year old with a nasty case of pink eye. But, having a weekday at home, actually accomplishing some items on my list (instead of just putting them on the list) has helped to calm me down.

Of course, sitting here for a few minutes has given me the time to think of three more things to put on my list. I guess I just shouldn't stop moving.

Someday...

...I won't have to wipe anyone's runny nose but my own. I can't wait for that day. Will it happen this summer when we move to a different climate, or will it only happen when my kids have reached the age where having streams of boogers pooling on their upper-lips is finally considered disgusting? Here's hoping for climate change, because my kids seem to have no sense of shame!

A confession

I have been a full-time working mom for the past 4 years. It's been a challenge. I'm constantly struggling with feelings of guilt, inadequacy, selfishness, resentment, you name it. I always feel like I'm doing things last minute and half-a*#ed. I get home everyday and the two and half hours between walking in the front door and bedtime are the longest, hardest, most anger filled hours of my day. I turn into a temper-tantrum throwing maniac. And then, I beat myself up about it because, of course, my children deserve a mother who is serene and self-controlled.

We are making a move in June that will allow me to be a stay-at-home mom. I have all sorts of visions of what things will be like. Lots of cooking healthy, delicious foods all from scratch, learning how to use a sewing machine (or at least hem my own pants), arts and crafts with my two year old, singing, reading, going for walks, and generally being perfect in every way. My deep, dark fear is that every minute of every day of my future will feel like the last few hours of my present days. Is that wrong to admit? What if I hate staying home? What if I'm bored all the time? What if I'm angry all the time?

I guess that it will continue to be about that tricky balancing act, giving my kids everything they need without giving up the things I need. Now I just need to figure out what those things are.

*** Sheesh, note to self. Don't blog on Monday nights, especially when you and the kids are all sick. You sound way too "angst-y."