It was a a day like any other. I was engrossed in the usual hullabaloo that is dinner time, trying to convince a 4 year old to eat macaroni and cheese (yes, really) and keep a 1 year old from throwing yet another piece of chicken on the floor. Any time it nears a meal, I spend a decent amount of time discussing what said meal will be and making it look appealing. I am sure you can relate.
Meal time: the struggle is real
If you were to eavesdrop, you’d hear a lot of “Jude, eat your macaroni. Eli, don’t throw that on the floor. Jude, no more shows until you take a bite of your food. Eli, please don’t throw that on the floor. No Jude, I cannot feed you. You’re a big boy. Eli, don’t you dare swat this spoon!” And so on. Needless to say, trying to prep my own meal and feed myself is quite a challenge. You can usually find me grazing, in the pantry or off the kids plates. But it was the moment the I realized I had eaten a Cheerio off the floor that I knew I needed an intervention.
I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down to eat a meal. Date night, maybe? That was last month. If my husband is working, my dinner might be scraps off the kids plates and piece of deli turkey. I realized that I’m frequently hangry, making poor food choices and hardly savoring my food. No, I didn’t misspell hungry. It’s hangry – you’re so hungry, you’re angry. It often looks like a Betty White Snickers commercial.
Spit out that Cheerio
As I put the Cheerio in my mouth, a voice in my head said, “What the hell are you doing? Spit that out!” And I did. And I resolved myself to sit down and eat a real meal, even if it meant doing so after the kids were in bed. To prevent this problem from reoccurring, if I’m famished during the kids’ meal time, I grab something healthy to hold me off. A piece of meat/cheese, granola, an apple or banana. It won’t spoil my meal, but it won’t make me reach for a half eaten chicken nugget either.
I have been happily eating clean, and it’s been about three weeks since I made this revelation. I feel so much better. I’d like to think I am more patient too, mostly because I am well fed now. No more pizza Goldfish for this mama. Ok maybe just one or two.