Rachel here.
My ma mentioned in her last post that Maxine has been diagnosed with MRSA. As anyone who's familiar with that difficult mistress knows, this means there's been a ton--TON--of cleaning in our house lately. Like, every single thing, every single day. Needless to say, cooking has taken the back burner around these parts. We have remembered out of necessity and a desire not to wash anything extra that a good portion of our refrigerator is happily and deliciously consumed raw. Yeah, these are the salad days.
I have a question for all of you dear readers of ours. Part of our daily routine now involves shoving medications up Max's nose and down her throat. The nose part sucks, but the kid is happily rewarded for her willing participation by being granted access to my jewelry. Last night--no joke!--she was walking around in strings of pearls with an arm laden with my grandmother's gold bracelets and pajamas. It was pretty cute and the sparkle seemed to help her forgot her burning nostrils. The hard part--and this is where I'm pleading with you for your own tricks!--is getting liquid meds in her. We've tried putting them in her food. We've tried milk with honey. We've accepted that the taste is too foul and the quantity too great to expect her to take them on their own. I know some of you have kids. How have you navigated this dilemma? We'll try anything.
Thanks guys! Go team!
A mother and daughter dish and cook their way through life, one recipe at a time.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Friday, August 12, 2011
Oh, Parenting
Rachel here.
I had this idea...no, that's an understatement...I had a conviction until this past Saturday. After years of being a total nut job about food, we, as parents, were never going to do anything but trust M about her own consumption habits. I've read countless books and articles about how babies and toddlers know how to feed themselves, about the importance of just letting them be and remembering that they don't have hang-ups like the rest of us. For a while, meals at our house looked like this:
Me: "Mama made you special carrot sticks with apple sauce and ginger. Three of your favorite things rolled into one!"
M: Slow blink. One hand slowly slides towards the plate. Suddenly, the plate is upset down and empty. Carrots litter the floor.
John: "Would you like something else to eat instead? We have yogurt and applesauce and chicken and tofu and..."
M: Affirmative nod.
And then one of us would pick her up and carry her into the kitchen and open the refrigerator and the cupboards and let her pick out what she wanted to eat. And then we'd feed it to her until, you know, she started shaking her head "no" and trying to smear the rest of her meal to the dining room table.
This past Saturday, though, M was sick. She was snotty and pukey and feverish and a wreck. She refused apple juice over and over again and wouldn't touch a single thing. We tried to remember if you're supposed to starve a fever and drown a cold or the other way around...that is, until we realized she had both going on, at which point we quit trying to remember and became seriously convinced that we had to get something into the kid somehow.
Out the window went our efforts at breezy my-kid-knows-what-they-need parenting and into the car piled M and me. We trekked over to Target where I bought her Pedialite before taking her to the baby food aisle and letting her pick out every food item that had her true love Elmo's face plastered on it.
Every. Single. One.
Sitting in the cart, her booger-laden face sparkled. It might have been the fever, but I'm pretty sure it was the mountain of Elmo food she finally was allowed to touch (prior to this I'd been telling her the character-advertised foods weren't for sale...only Nana can buy them, I explained).
Once home, we settled down on the floor amongst her booty. One by one, we opened each package. At most she ate a bite from each.
At least she ate a bite from each, we reasoned. And she downed the sugary nastiness that is Pedialite.
It was our first meal-time barter. You can have this if you eat it. Eat one more bite and you can stop. We went on and on, filling our weekend with attempts to get some food into our kid.
And now that she's better? I'm back to thinking that we probably could've laid off, to believing that the kid knows what she needs and will make sure she gets it for herself.
I had this idea...no, that's an understatement...I had a conviction until this past Saturday. After years of being a total nut job about food, we, as parents, were never going to do anything but trust M about her own consumption habits. I've read countless books and articles about how babies and toddlers know how to feed themselves, about the importance of just letting them be and remembering that they don't have hang-ups like the rest of us. For a while, meals at our house looked like this:
Me: "Mama made you special carrot sticks with apple sauce and ginger. Three of your favorite things rolled into one!"
M: Slow blink. One hand slowly slides towards the plate. Suddenly, the plate is upset down and empty. Carrots litter the floor.
John: "Would you like something else to eat instead? We have yogurt and applesauce and chicken and tofu and..."
M: Affirmative nod.
And then one of us would pick her up and carry her into the kitchen and open the refrigerator and the cupboards and let her pick out what she wanted to eat. And then we'd feed it to her until, you know, she started shaking her head "no" and trying to smear the rest of her meal to the dining room table.
This past Saturday, though, M was sick. She was snotty and pukey and feverish and a wreck. She refused apple juice over and over again and wouldn't touch a single thing. We tried to remember if you're supposed to starve a fever and drown a cold or the other way around...that is, until we realized she had both going on, at which point we quit trying to remember and became seriously convinced that we had to get something into the kid somehow.
Out the window went our efforts at breezy my-kid-knows-what-they-need parenting and into the car piled M and me. We trekked over to Target where I bought her Pedialite before taking her to the baby food aisle and letting her pick out every food item that had her true love Elmo's face plastered on it.
Every. Single. One.
Sitting in the cart, her booger-laden face sparkled. It might have been the fever, but I'm pretty sure it was the mountain of Elmo food she finally was allowed to touch (prior to this I'd been telling her the character-advertised foods weren't for sale...only Nana can buy them, I explained).
Once home, we settled down on the floor amongst her booty. One by one, we opened each package. At most she ate a bite from each.
At least she ate a bite from each, we reasoned. And she downed the sugary nastiness that is Pedialite.
It was our first meal-time barter. You can have this if you eat it. Eat one more bite and you can stop. We went on and on, filling our weekend with attempts to get some food into our kid.
And now that she's better? I'm back to thinking that we probably could've laid off, to believing that the kid knows what she needs and will make sure she gets it for herself.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
On Watching M Eat...And, You Know, An Applesauce Recipe
Rachel here.
There is something about being a parent that offers the world up anew through the eyes of your child. For eleven months now, John and I have had the incredible fortune--and unfathomable undoing--of walking through our days infused with the perspective of M. She notices so many things we take for granted--the splattering of water hitting a puddle from the gutter, the tiny flowers in our grapefruit tree, that fingers bend and when they do we can use our hands in different ways.
Lately, though, as M transitions out of baby food and into the realm of food the rest of us enjoy, I find myself marveling at tastes and textures in their simplest forms. Eggs are slippery and elusive in a mouth without teeth; blackberries offer a juicy burst before a bit of chewiness emerges; plain tofu is actually delicious. In a food world without salt, I find myself tasting in a way I can't recall as I nibble on M's meals or eat her leftovers and rejects. Cinnamon is a powerful spice and coconut is surprisingly creamy. Potatoes are warm and wonderful mush. And apple juice? Nothing beats it in its purest form.
M eats for sustenance and M eats to learn. She eats what she wants and discards the rest, stopping when she's full even if she loves what she's in the middle of eating. She pokes and prods at the food in front of her, trying to figure it out. She remembers, too--noting that potato cubes are not the same as banana cubes even if they're sharing a spot on the table before her. Her relationship with food, while mediated by what we offer her, remains so uninhibited. It is a lesson on eating to watch her, a lesson in noticing what goes in my mouth, in considering it, on eating to tend to my needs. As she learns, so do I.
Do any of you parental types know what I'm talking about? Have you ever had one of those moments with food where you become conscious of your relationship with it and of different possibilities? Kids aren't the only way to these considerations, i know. M has just been my personal invitation.
Anyway, in honor of M, I share a recipe that's entered the weekly rotation in our house. Applesauce is such a simple thing to make and so delicious, too. Hot off the stove with a dash of cinnamon is my personal favorite way to eat it.
Applesauce
makes roughly 6 cups
15 apples (I'd recommend Granny Smith, but this week I'm trying Gala in hopes of making it a little less tart for M)
apple juice or water
Peel and core your apples, slicing them into similarly sized pieces. Toss in a pot. Add liquid to coat the bottom (this prevents burning). Cut a piece of wax paper and press down over the apples. Cook over low heat, stirring periodically, until your desired texture is reached. Add cinnamon to taste (if you'd like). Devour! Oh--and if you want your applesauce to be a little extra awesome, stir in a little bit of maple syrup. So so good.
There is something about being a parent that offers the world up anew through the eyes of your child. For eleven months now, John and I have had the incredible fortune--and unfathomable undoing--of walking through our days infused with the perspective of M. She notices so many things we take for granted--the splattering of water hitting a puddle from the gutter, the tiny flowers in our grapefruit tree, that fingers bend and when they do we can use our hands in different ways.
Lately, though, as M transitions out of baby food and into the realm of food the rest of us enjoy, I find myself marveling at tastes and textures in their simplest forms. Eggs are slippery and elusive in a mouth without teeth; blackberries offer a juicy burst before a bit of chewiness emerges; plain tofu is actually delicious. In a food world without salt, I find myself tasting in a way I can't recall as I nibble on M's meals or eat her leftovers and rejects. Cinnamon is a powerful spice and coconut is surprisingly creamy. Potatoes are warm and wonderful mush. And apple juice? Nothing beats it in its purest form.
M eats for sustenance and M eats to learn. She eats what she wants and discards the rest, stopping when she's full even if she loves what she's in the middle of eating. She pokes and prods at the food in front of her, trying to figure it out. She remembers, too--noting that potato cubes are not the same as banana cubes even if they're sharing a spot on the table before her. Her relationship with food, while mediated by what we offer her, remains so uninhibited. It is a lesson on eating to watch her, a lesson in noticing what goes in my mouth, in considering it, on eating to tend to my needs. As she learns, so do I.
Do any of you parental types know what I'm talking about? Have you ever had one of those moments with food where you become conscious of your relationship with it and of different possibilities? Kids aren't the only way to these considerations, i know. M has just been my personal invitation.
Anyway, in honor of M, I share a recipe that's entered the weekly rotation in our house. Applesauce is such a simple thing to make and so delicious, too. Hot off the stove with a dash of cinnamon is my personal favorite way to eat it.
Applesauce
makes roughly 6 cups
15 apples (I'd recommend Granny Smith, but this week I'm trying Gala in hopes of making it a little less tart for M)
apple juice or water
Peel and core your apples, slicing them into similarly sized pieces. Toss in a pot. Add liquid to coat the bottom (this prevents burning). Cut a piece of wax paper and press down over the apples. Cook over low heat, stirring periodically, until your desired texture is reached. Add cinnamon to taste (if you'd like). Devour! Oh--and if you want your applesauce to be a little extra awesome, stir in a little bit of maple syrup. So so good.
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