Healthy Eating

"For the most part I'd have to say you're a pretty good mom," Parker told me the other night, "Except for one thing--the healthy eating! Stop! That's pretty much where the whole bad mom thing comes in."

This was after the chicken potpie dinner. I wouldn't even classify that as uber-healthy.

"Wait," Parker said, as I cut into the potpie, "I thought we were having pie for dinner."

"We are. Pie with chicken and vegetables."

Parker sighed, "I guess I'm eating cereal tonight."

"You have to eat at least one bite."

McKay is carefully examining her piece with a fork. "I see onions in here! You didn't say anything about onions. I hate onions!"

"You won't even taste them once they're cooked."

Unconvinced she begins picking apart her piece, pushing all the onions to one side. I pass her the bread.

"Is this wheat bread?"

"It's always wheat bread."

"Where's the Nutella?" she asks, looking across the table.

"In the pantry."

"I can only eat wheat bread if it has Nutella on it."

With much gagging, the one mandated bite is shoved down the kids' throats.

Today McKay is sick. Not very sick, just a headache and a slight fever. Just sick enough to get out of school. Just sick enough to get to spend the day lying on the couch watching hours worth of Barbie movies. Just sick enough to tell me, "I'm starting to feel better, but not better enough to do school."

So trying to be a nice mom, I make waffles for dinner--a McKay favorite. I do not make my normal healthy whole wheat and oatmeal waffles with fruit on top. (You're feeling Parker's pain right now, huh?) No, I make the best waffles in the world, Jenni Thomas waffles. (Jenni was my roommate for several years in college, and we ate these waffles pretty much every other day for two years.) Then to make dinner extra sweet, I try a new recipe for a buttery caramel syrup. There is nothing healthy about this syrup--butter, milk, corn syrup, sugar, and vanilla.

I take a bite and announce, "This syrup is AMAZING!" Then being an extra nice mom, I offer McKay a bite.

McKay lets out a scream. An actual honest scream. You would have thought I'd offered her an onion or a slice of whole wheat bread. "No," she cries, tears pouring from her eyes, "No, syrup! I'll eat my waffle plain." Because McKay is just sick enough to weep over waffles, I turn to Deacon.

"Try mommy's syrup," I said, shoving a fork towards his mouth.

His teeth clench shut, and he dodges my fork. Afraid I will shove a bite of food in his mouth if he opens it to speak, he shakes his head in the negative.

"Come on, it tastes like candy," I coax.

I get the teeth clench head shake.

"Eat it! It's so sugary. It's dripping in sugar! Don't you want this sugary goodness?" I move my fork closer to his mouth, and he backs up to the edge of his chair.

I'm just about to say, "You're not getting down from this table until you've had at least one bite of my candy-flavored syrup," when I remember something. I remember I'm force feeding my child sugar.

I can't wait until the weekend. I'm making caramel apples for a Halloween party, and so help me, those kids better eat them, or else....