We were at T-man’s gymnastics’ lesson this week when it was like the devil herself walked in…
I’ve been working with Bear on making better choices – particularly eating more fruits and vegetables (ha!), being active, and limiting fast food. To say we’re struggling a bit with these changes is, well, generous. Extremely generous.
We’re having success with the fruit, but veggies aren’t really making a comeback in Bear’s life. The vegetables she’ll consume willingly at the moment? Corn on the cob, potatoes (but only sliced or diced new potatoes, not baked or mashed or any other form imaginable), and (sometimes) green beans. That last one has a better chance if they’re fresh picked from Grandpop’s garden, but occasionally I can sneak some canned beans in during the winter.
Anyone else notice the common thread in these Bear-approved vegetables? Starch, starch, and more starch. The hit-or-miss green beans are the only item that vaguely resembles an actual vegetable in her diet. Anything else even a little bit green is a big fat no-go: peas, mixed vegetables, celery, spinach (HA!), broccoli, peppers, and asparagus (bwahahahahaha!!!), among all others.
And none of the typical kid tricks work. Dipping them in ranch dressing. Drenching them in cheese sauce. It’s like Bear’s got a locked gate behind her teeth, and only her three approved veggies know the combination. For the love.
Bear does claim to like salads now but she doesn’t eat tomatoes, carrots, or cucumbers. Basically that means her “salad” is iceberg lettuce (ie. primarily water with minimal vitamins), bacon bits, croutons, and salad dressing. Healthy, right? Yeah.
So this week we sat at a table while T-man tumbled, Bear with her homework and me with my iPad. We’d almost made it to the end of the hour…we were so close…when in walked a woman with her two kids carrying a McDonald’s bag to the table beside ours. The smells wafting from that bag were heavenly. Mouth-watering. Smells that trigger a compulsive urge in both of us to run to the closest fast food joint.
Sure enough, it wasn’t thirty seconds before Bear was asking for Chic-fil-a for dinner.
I’m super proud of myself for quickly saying no and sticking to it, despite the fact that I wanted those fries just as badly as she did. I have a problem with fast food, and I feel terrible that I passed that habit along to Bear. I know kids aren’t born like this; she wouldn’t have developed such serious cravings if we hadn’t gone through a period of time when fast food was a regular dinner treat in our house.
So now we’re both working hard to undo it. I don’t mean to make light of other addictions, ones that cause plenty of pain and suffering, but this is the fight that Bear and I are in together.
And we’re gonna win it.