Part II
And so, I continued running after them, and how!
I was just afraid. They showed no signs of being weaned off
being fed, their appetites diminished and my worry increased.
Until Chaim was born.
When Chaim was born, all the children except for Shloimy were
left alone for the first time with their father. Until then,
everyone was usually sent off to Savta. Our Chaim came to the
world a week after Pesach, so that the possibility of having
food prepared ahead of time in the freezer was not an option.
Also, my husband is not the type to go into the kitchen and
start cooking. I had good reason to worry.
I sat in the convalescent home with a full buffet in front of
me, imagining my poor children and who knows what they were
eating? How was my husband going to manage our three picky
eaters? He had enough on his head, what with organizing the
bris and the sholom zochor. When was he going
to have time to sit and feed them and to run after them and
deal with all of their food-related quirks? They won't
eat; they'll be nervous and who knows what else. My
husband, of course, was telling me that everything was fine
and that the children were eating well, but who knew what
awaited me when I returned home...
I had tortured myself for nothing. Mendy, it turned out, ate
with hearty appetite the omelet that his father made him and
no less -- the shnitzel and mashed potatoes that Savta had
sent. My Mendy? The one who never touches chicken? And Chani
ate by herself? And Tzivi? Tzivi celebrated freedom.
"You don't know what kind of stuff Abba's been making for us.
Yesterday, today and also tomorrow -- a sunny-side-up egg!"
she told me happily.
"What? You've been eating fried eggs for three days?"
"No, also bread. And at night, Abba let me have a plain piece
of bread and a tomato. Ima," her voice was tentative, "how
long are you staying in the Beit Hachlama?"
"Until Wednesday. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. But tell me, Ima," she chose her words eagerly.
"If you stayed there longer, let's say until Rosh Chodesh, do
you think that Abba would let me have a sunny-side-up egg
every day?"
Don't get carried away, I told myself. You don't
expect a little girl of four to appreciate the efforts you
make for her, do you? So why are you so hurt? That she's not
in love with your cooking and the only thing she wants is a
fried egg? Nu, in her place, wouldn't you also want to
continue the celebration?
At that moment, I took careful stock. Be honest with
yourself, I told myself. Do you eat things that you
don't like? No, not even if they're `healthy'. So why do you
force her to? Your daughter has a fundamental right to eat
what she likes. That doesn't mean that you have to give her
everything she wants, but you can't ignore the fact that
there are some things she doesn't like, even if they're very
healthy and very tasty in your opinion. It also happens
sometimes that she's tired or nervous or that she just
doesn't have any appetite.
The familiar fear clutched at my heart: What about the
vitamins? What about cholesterol? How can she grow with 365
omelets a year and little else? A quiet voice inside me
answered: You know Tzivi: she also likes milk, tomatoes
and tehina. She handles meatballs well. It's not the end of
the world. So she won't eat chicken soup or fish. There are
other things in the world. Eggs are protein, too.
But it will turn into manipulation, screamed my anxiety.
What? Mendy is going to agree to keep to the regular menu
when the person next to him is getting whatever she wishes?
He'll fight for his own! The quiet voice remained calm.
It won't be his own; it will be choice. Ask first: What
are you eating today? This or that? And even if he does want
to be different, it's hard to believe that Mendy will agree
to the monotonous menu of non-stop omelets. Especially now
that you've seen that he has no problem with normal food a la
Savta's meatballs. Hey, there's a point that bears
clarification. How have Mendy and Chani, the veteran picky
eaters, eaten in my absence? It's unbelievable!
"How did you get them to eat?" I asked my husband over the
phone. He didn't know. He hadn't run after them. Whoever
wanted to eat, ate, and whoever didn't -- didn't. But not in
the style of the lady in the park. My husband didn't lock the
pantry against anyone who didn't want to eat the shnitzels
with mashed potatoes at lunchtime. When Tzivi declared that
she wasn't touching the shnitzel, she got an omelet instead.
But because she was exhausted after they all went to sleep at
10:00 p.m., he put her to bed, stored the omelet and bread in
the fridge, and gave it to her to eat at 4:00. Mendy asked
for an apple instead of his evening tomato and got it.
So, in essence, that was the method! The method of the lady
from the park was rigid; also, my overanxious worrying was
inconsiderate and overbearing. This had to stop!
Of course! Give the children personal freedom with proper
direction, and don't make food into an issue! These
realizations caused a turnaround. Less so for my children,
more so for me. The children didn't even notice that they,
gradually, began to eat by themselves.
They don't want to eat `greens' and carrots? Doesn't matter.
I pushed the vitamins and iron from different directions. For
example, through fruits and tehina. Chani doesn't want to eat
now? So, no. The plate will wait for her in the fridge until
she wants it. Mendy got into a leben mood one day and
preferred it to a cooked meal? Let him enjoy it. He'll make
up for it tomorrow or the next day. At the worst, it'll
balance out over the weekend. And this, by the way, I learned
later. Children's studies have shown that if you leave a
range of food within a child's reach, he'll take whatever his
body needs in quantity and quality.
And I keep healthful food within reach. A bowl of washed
apples is a regular feature of the kitchen's decor. In the
afternoon, for example, when everyone is waiting impatiently
for the food that's warming up and cooling off, I place a
plate of cut vegetables in front of them and it's emptied in
minutes.
Vegetables, in general, lately have turned into a treat:
"When you finish your bread," I promise dramatically, "I'll
let you have a cucumber." Or, "I'm making pepper rings and
carrot sticks. When you finish cleaning up your toys, you can
have some." It works. I also didn't believe it at first, but
the toys are picked up and the carrots are eaten.
In short, I have taken food off the agenda and turned it back
into part of life. I prevented food manipulation. They ate
what they wanted, with appetite, and wonder of wonders, the
menu matched, more or less, what the books recommended. Here
and there, there've been patches of lack of appetite, as
happens with all children, and I didn't get pressured. Except
for one instance that stemmed from severe anemia, as the
blood tests showed. But even that wasn't only the food.
Under normal circumstances, so I've learned, a healthy child
is not meant to make a big deal out of food. A big deal needs
to be made about what's behind the food.
