When I titled my blog "paying for my raising" I knew that I would want to occasionally write about the things happening with my kids that could have come directly from my childhood. Today will be another installment along those lines.
Growing up, I was something of a picky eater. I never really liked breakfast foods. I did not like eggs, grits (I am a southern girl, but YUCK), oatmeal or cereal with milk. I wasn't as bad about lunch or dinner, but I still did not like certain things like turnip greens, brussel sprouts, bell pepper, onions and probably a few more that I have forgotten. In a family with four kids (3 boys and me) my mom did not have time to cook separate meals for one picky child. And, my dad was determined that he could convince me to eat anything. Mama was a little more easy going ... she let me eat tuna sandwiches for breakfast. I know, that is weird and I don't really have an explanation for it. Mama also thought about me when cooking evening meals; if she was cooking something that she knew I didn't like, she would always include at least one veggie that she knew I did like and then it wasn't a big deal if I chose not to eat turnips. I have grown up a bit and am much more willing to try foods that I once wouldn't have even considered eating.
Fast forward 15 years and I am now cooking for a family of my own. I have one son (JW) who cries when he sees anything with tomatoes cooking. I have another who won't eat anything with barbecue sauce on it. This pretty much wipes out four of my favorite meals to cook: veggie soup, spaghetti, chili, and barbecue baked chicken with rice. Little D also won't eat sandwiches. I've never heard of a kid who didn't like spaghetti or sandwiches but I have both. LB is pretty laid back and will eat most anything except onions and bell peppers.
I am now experiencing the grief I gave my parents, times 2. Oh, the joys of parenting.
I am sorry, Mama, I never really understood how much trouble picky eaters can be.
But I still don't like turnip greens or brussel sprouts.