For those that have spent much time chatting with me, it's pretty well known that one of the biggest sources of stress in my life comes from food. Andy cannot eat onions, has issues with food textures, and is very picky about food temperatures. Me, I have issues with food textures that further limit our menu. It was already a problem, but then we were blessed with a child who is the fussiest eater in the world.
Feeding my family is a nightmare.
In addition to being a fussy eater, Michael is downright hostile about eating. I don't know how this happened. Knowing the battles my parents had with my sister, I worked very hard to make food a non-issue. But, it didn't work. Michael would never acknowledge that he was hungry, he activity resisted eating most foods, and even fought joining us at the dinner table.
Once he hit about 40 pounds, a few months ago, he finally got to the point where he would have to ask for food because he needed fuel to run his body. He would do it grudgingly and it even included a temper tantrum where he got mad at himself for joining us for dinner when we hadn't asked him to.
Let that sink in. He was mad at himself because he was so hungry he had to sit down at the dinner table and ask for food.
Things have been improving slightly. Michael will now ask for food if he is hungry. He's resumed eating most of the foods he once ate but gave up about a year ago when he switched to Mac 'n Cheeseianism. But, he's still been down right hostile about joining us at the dinner table.
A month or so ago, I was making dinner when I asked Michael if he was hungry. "Yes. I want Mac 'n Cheese in the living room." I politely informed him that he needed to eat in the dinning room with the family.
Michael started chanting with the sweetest, sing songy voice, "I hate the dinning room! I hate the dinning room!" Over and over again. The words didn't go with the cheerful sound of the song.
Well, that was it. I was just done with the whole thing. DONE! What I really wanted to do was go ape-snot crazy and rant and rave about how insane it is to be hostile towards food and eating. Years of this has pushed me to just about my breaking point. But, only just about.
I collected myself, remained calm, and using the same sweet sing songy tone, I walked into the room with him chanting, "I hate fighting about dinner, I hate fighting about dinner." I had a smile on my face and the levity of my mood was clear.
It was just a joke to help keep me sane in the face of the great food wars.
But you know what? It worked. When I called Andy and Michael for dinner, Michael came to dinner with a smile on his face. He ate until he was full, and then excused himself and washed his hands and face.
I was shocked and was sure it was just a fluke.
The next night, I called him for dinner and he came. And he ate. And then the next night and the next. He even started trying new foods and discovered he liked a few of them.
I've been hesitant to mention anything about this because I'm afraid it works the same way as saying your baby is sleeping through the night. As soon as you breath a word about it, it goes away. And I do not want this to go away.
Last night, when I called that dinner was ready, Michael jumped up and came running into the kitchen yelling, "YAY! Dinner Time!" I stared at him in shock as he went running by.
There is only one thing I can conclude from this. Someone has stolen Michael and replaced him with a cyborg that looks just like him. It's really the only thing that makes sense.