Chocoholics Anonymous

Lady Belle is quite possibly one of the most dainty eaters I've encountered in a while (she gets it from me)--that is, until she's confronted with chocolate (also mine).  For some reason the mere sight, smell (probably sound) of chocolate turns my mild mannered Sugar Drop into some other-worldly, half-vampire love child.  Basically she temporarily adopts the 'Finn Method' for food consumption.

PS:  I love my children so much!!

Whaz' Up, D!?!

Our virtual friend, Dexter, has been hitting the chocolate pudding pretty hard (via a recent blog post).  Dexter is a super sweet baby boy we've never met, but enjoy keeping track of on his blog.

For those of you who don't know, his Mom started a blog journaling their fertility struggles, Allison, Daniel & Dexter's Journey.  A mutual friend recommended I read this blog, and possibly start my own, while Dave and I struggled to face our own fertility challenges.  Two years, and 350 posts later, we're still chronicling our journey and you're still bored enough to read it.

Here's our own version of dinner with chocolate pudding:

We didn't mind they played more than ate their pudding.  It will be another 90 years before that's consider socially acceptable anyway.

You Know What I'm Talking About

Anyone who's had children should remember the 'learning to eat like a civilized being' phase of child rearing.  This phase sucks; and quite frankly, I'm trying my best to avoid it.  There is no joy in cleaning a kitchen three times a day.  Nor is there comfort in constantly throwing away leftover food bits that could, over time, feed a small Third World nation.

So, my new strategy involves lunchtime picnics.  Some days we head to the park for lunch and others we sit out on the front porch.  At the moment, it's a win/win situation for everyone.  I'm providing a stimulating environment for the babies to enjoy, they're providing sustenance to the local ecosystem, and I'm not responsible for cleaning a single crumb or spill.

Diary of a Whiny Baby

For clarification, that would be me, not my children.  I dread mealtimes, mainly the mess afterwards.  I'm three seconds from driving to Lowes and purchasing a huge roll of plastic sheeting--which I will promptly drape over the kitchen table, floor, walls and windows.

But then I envision the effort involved in putting the twins in the car, carting them through Lowes, then lugging my purchase and twins safely through the pea soup that is any parking lot in the coastal South right now and suddenly I feel sleepy.  Not to mention the fact I'd still have a mess after meal time, it'd just be on plastic instead of wood floors.

I've spent the better part of this week trying various approaches to mealtime management.  Here's a brief list:

• If a cup is dropped, it stays on the floor (Bad idea, this just makes Finn mad and thirsty in 20 minutes).  So my new approach is to give them their cups, then ask for it back when they are done.  It's working so far.

• The dogs stay outside while the babies eat so there are no distractions or encouragements to feed the dog (apparently no one liked this idea, including the dogs).  The new approach is to let the dogs sit on the floor and watch the babies eat.  The dogs learn their boundaries while the babies eat and the babies get to experiment with the freedom of feeding themselves and something else (everyone's a winner now).

• Giving the babies one food item at a time to monitor how much they eat of any given fruit, veggie or protein (they were on to me and knew I had something else, possibly better, waiting in the wings so a lot of plates were dumped).  Now there is one plate with all their food choices and if they want more of one item they can attempt to tell me (no guarantees I'll actually understand).

• Mealtime should be riddled with 'teachable moments' on good table manners and what is right and wrong (even I started thinking I was being a bore . . . not cool).   Now we just eat and play.

My new approach revolves around reminding myself these kids are barely 13 months old.  For them, mealtime should be fun and exciting because there are new tastes and textures to explore.  For now, we're going to shelve table manners, at least until they can talk or exhibit some clearer sense of understanding. 

The Natural Fork

I've come to the conclusion the twins were barbarians in a previous life.  This would explain why Finn enjoys throwing his fork on the floor as soon as I hand it to him, or why Mirabelle would rather use her fingers to pick the food off the end of the fork instead of sticking the fork with food in her mouth.

Perhaps my children are natural geniuses; because honestly, why do we really need forks in the first place when we already have two perfectly good hands?  It apparently defies simple logic and I'm not sure I can fault my children for questioning why Mommy is making dinner so much more difficult than it really ought to be.

I'm not alone on this matter, most of Western Europe felt the same way in the 11th Century, roughly the time the fork was introduced as a proper meal time utensil.  One clergy man even went so far as to write:

"God in his wisdom has provided man with natural forks - his fingers. Therefore it is an insult to Him to substitute artificial metallic forks for them when eating." 

Excerpt taken From Hand to Mouth by James Cross Giblin.

So now I'm presented with an even more complex dilemma, will my children go to Hell for using forks?  Will I meet them there for forcing such demonic behavior?  Frankly, I'm baffled the Tea Party movement hasn't jumped on this one pushing to make fork use unconstitutional.

Is it already time to play the 'Because I Told You So' card--or should I start with the truth?  It would go something like this:

Some snot-nosed Byzantine princess married an Italian dude and refused to eat with her fingers (I know, right!?!).  Then it became a status symbol to own a fork and actually use it during meals.  Now today it's a sign of civility, can you say Ci-vil-i-ty, Finn?   

So, here are your choices.  You can eat with your fingers (probably go to Heaven) and get picked on by the other kids at school or you can learn to use your fork properly and pick on all the kids who use their fingers.

Final note, parenting is hard work.