Mommy, can I have some duck?" asked three-year-old Esmé at a friend's dinner party.
"Your daughter," observed another guest, raising her eyebrows in surprise, "has a rather refined palate." Yes, yes, it's true, and I won't lie: I felt chuffed about my fancy-pants kid. Then I thought, Omigod, I've become one of those food-obsessed mothers.
What is it about us moms and food? Why are we always having panic attacks over what our kids are eating, how they're eating and how their little tummies are processing such foods? "Jason (not his real name) is having some trouble with bowel movements," noted my friend Claire one day over coffee. "He cries and he cries, and we're trying to get him over his fear of pooping."
What parents talk about
This subject matter is pretty much par for the course now that we're parents. Hard to believe we used to talk about clothes, foreign films, careers, and trendy restaurants -- and, yes, even men. These days, bowel forecasts bump discussions of Christian Bale's and George Clooney's hotness right out of any conversation.
A key component of motherhood seems to be asking yourself such soul-searching questions as, "Will my child get scurvy if she only eats peanut butter and banana sandwiches?" and "If I can just get a bit of broccoli into his mouth, will any nutrients be absorbed in that split second before he spits it out?" (Worried about your child's nutrition needs? Read Food facts for little nibblers.)
At her daughter's birthday party, another friend of mine, Jenn, was aghast when one of the other mothers (and her friend) made a point of loudly critiquing the fare being served, saying that no daughter of hers would eat hot dogs or chips. Ms. Anti-Junk Food would only permit little Laura to eat veggies and pita bread, while she chowed down on the chips ("It's different! I'm an adult!"). A word to the wise: don't criticize another mom's food choices -- them's fightin' words.
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