R has a new morning routine. He finishes his milk, crawls (FYI babies, apparently much cooler than walking) into the kitchen, opens the cupboard, and passes me the box of croutons. Then he moans at me and points at it.
He isnt hungry, he’s just finished his milk. I havent shown him the croutons, not since about 3 days ago when I (Bad mum alert) gave him about 7 to keep him busy while I finished the washing up. And yet, the past few mornings, he has done exactly as listed above, and gets seriously annoyed when I refuse to accomodate his breakfast wishes.
I’ve said before, how my own lack of willpower when it comes to eating habits I’ve always blamed on my household growing up. I have so many unresolved issues about food and health because of things I was told growing up and choices I was allowed to make too young. This time, I can’t blame the upbringing. I’m not just saying that because it’s me doing it, I genuinely think I’ve been doing a good job. R has three meals a day, and normally a snack midmorning and after his nap. The snack is usually fruit, and sometimes cheerios, a baby cereal bar, a breadstick/cracker, or some cheese. And unless he eats whatever it is ravenously, I’m pretty sure he knows that one snack is all he is getting.
So why is a box of crackers being thrown at my kneecaps multiple times a day?
If I’ve been doing all the right things, surely he shouldnt be craving food for foods sake. Discussing it with C this morning, we agree that chances are, even right after a huge meal, there are certain snacks that R will always accept. Not only that, but an unlimited amount. I once found him delightedly surrounded by a fallen (or knocked over) box of breadsticks, merrily stuffing as many in his mouth as possible. He is often found trying to eat through various plastics and foil packets. Where did this gluttonous streak come from? Is it nothing to do with upbringing, and just the lot you draw from birth? And if that’s true, perhaps I’ve been blaming my upbringing all this time, when really my bad eating habits were inescapable.
There are obviously pros to having a baby who eats. I don’t have to worry about his weight, I dont have to sit coaxing him to take ‘Just one more bite’, I dont have to plan nutritious meals around the 5 items of food he will deign to swallow. I can even generally sit in a coffee shop or a restaurant with a friend for up to forty minutes while he enjoys the various courses I’ve brought for lunch.
But maybe I’ve also been enjoying it too much, and not looking at the cons. More than anything, I want him to have a sensible approach to eating. When boys suffer with weight and unhealthy eating, I think they do so even more than girls. And while most men are known for being able to shed excess weight effortlessly, we all know that there are some for whom the opposite is true. And with the amount that my son has clearly inherited from me, I don’t think I’ll relax until I see with my own eyes that his metabolism is his fathers.
[ Just as a side note, what IS it with most men and losing weight?
Sunday: Hm, my clothes are a bit tight, I think I’ll have to cut back.
Monday: No, I won’t finish this whole cake right now.
Tuesday: That’s better. ]
Maybe I’m worrying too much, and with a few nudges in the right direction, he will learn that we eat when we’re hungry, and never to excess, and that snacking is not a way to pass the time when bored, or just because you’ve seen something you like. Or maybe I’ll be blogging in a decade or so’s time about my teenage boy who still brings me seventeen fruit cups a day to open for him.