sunburnt wheatgrass

I’ve noticed a change that I’m not sure I like. My eating methods. And the fault lies totally and completely with my dear husband and beloved children. I’ve heard of eating habits changing when someone gets married or has a family, but never eating methods. I am not necessarily a slow eater, but I do like to enjoy my food. I don’t mix foods that don’t belong together and have always hated buffets for that sole reason. I revel in those divided plates that give certain foods their own special compartment without having their flavors contaminate the others. And I always save the best parts of something like a sandwich or a quessadilla or a piece of pie as my last bite.

But no more. On a recent family date we cashed in on a Golden Spoon coupon for two free small yogurts. Enna got four spoons, I snatched a small stack of napkins, and Yucan held the precious cups (under Enna’s watchful supervision) as we walked to the sitting area inside Ralphs. Before my bottom was even situated in the chair Enna had dug right in to the half boysenberry half coffee yogurt, scooping out a huge spoonful that lifted the cup slightly off the table. Man she can open her mouth wide!

I like to eat my ice cream or frozen yogurt with small spoons that take me two times to clear one spoonful. I’m not a biter or a chewer or a gulper of these fine products and enjoy the tastes melting in my mouth. The rest of my family bites, gulps and actual inhale. I enjoyed maybe two bites of my frozen yogurt before the feeling of hurriedness and panic overtook me. If I didn’t eat bigger and faster there wasn’t going to be any left for me. (Do note that Yucan had his own cup of yogurt and while he did say I could have some he held it in his hand close to his mouth and far out of my reach.) Little by little the cup I was sharing with Enna ended up in front of her and Ennyn was practicing putting the large spoon in and bringing it to her mouth. She tried feeding me once but on a quick second thought abruptly took the spoon back. All those innate feelings of fighting for survival bubbled up inside of me.

And this isn’t just about frozen yogurt or a one-time thing; it’s almost daily with my Larabars, tea, toast, cheese. Enna sees my mouth moving but no sound coming out and she automatically asks, “Mommy, what are you eating?” in that oh-so-eager voice. I want to lie and say “nothing” but something about that doesn’t seem right. And I can’t name some awful tasting vegetable because she’ll want it and love it and gobble it down as if it were chocolate.

Like tonight. I made my cauliflower and baked tofu dish, and my peculiar habits of eating include equal portions of each thing. So with every bite of rice I like having proportional amounts of both tofu and cauliflower. (I know I can’t be the only one…). But Ennyn wanted, rather demanded, my cauliflower so I made adjustments so that my final bites would all be even. It didn’t work as she ate more than what you’d think a normal 12-month old would eat of cauliflower and I was left with a good half dozen bite sized piece of tofu. Then she voraciously wanted the tofu and I was left with plain brown rice, and some slight pangs of hunger.

I’m learning to not save the best and most cheesy part of my quessadilla or meatiest part of my sandwich for the last bite, knowing that it will most likely be snatched up by some hungry mouth. I honestly don’t feel bad at being a bit selfish about the favorite parts of my food, but I don’t know how to adjust to this sudden feeling of being rushed and hurried lest I be left with an empty dish and a dirty fork in my hand. Yes, more than once Enna has bent over to quickly eat what is on my fork before I can get it to my mouth. She thinks it’s funny. Me? Not so much. And you better not too.