While having my morning coffee and browsing the internet this morning, I came across a discussion about how parents can instill in their children a healthy relationship with food. I’m not a parent but have been far more active as an aunt than most. (In practical terms I had 50/50 custody of my three oldest nephews, and the nephews and nieces who came after them also spent far more time with me than their own parents.)
That is relevant because when I had the kids I fed them whatever they wanted every morning, no matter what it was. They didn’t get enough food otherwise. The only rule was it had to be something I could make with what we had in the house. There were some debates on occasion, but at a certain point I’d start making pancakes before they even woke up. That was their favorite, expected thing. As soon as they got out of bed they’d have a cup of hot chocolate and pancakes ready for them at the table. It was just how they liked things to go on the mornings at Annie’s house.
For lunch we’d have a more balanced meal- sandwiches and fruit or roasted veggies with pita and hummus.
For dinner they always wanted pizza or fast food or frozen meals just because that was what they were used to but I would rarely go along with that.
If they wanted pizza or burgers and fries or hot pockets or whatever, we’d make that at home. That’s when I learned to make dinner interactive. I got tired of the kids hovering in the kitchen asking when the food would be ready so I started assigning all of them tasks to help make it. It was a lot of fun! (Stressful for me, to be honest, but worth it and fun watching the kids learn to take pride in what was served for dinner.)
I want to emphasize that I know this was a privilege I had. I could not have done it as a full-time parent. At the time I was financially comfortable- my then-partner and I made good wages and had low housing and cost of living expenses- and we were DINKs, so we had plenty of disposable income. I loved that time of my life most of all because I never, ever had to go cheap when it came to food and that was the most amazing thing I had achieved in my life as far as I was concerned.
So this discussion I was reading about parents teaching healthy relationships with food sent me on a long journey through my mind and memories, including the above.
One person posited that parents shouldn’t simply say “eat it or else” and instead explain why that’s what they have to eat that night, to be honest: if it’s because that’s all you can afford, tell the child(ren) that’s all they can afford. If the parent is just tired, tell the child(ren) that they’re tired.
Another person said the parent doesn’t have to do that- part of life is accepting what people give you when it comes to your needs and if it’s not enough, learn to live with it while you figure out how to get what you want for yourself.
Other people jumped in to say opinion A caused an unhealthy relationship with food and yet other people said the same about opinion B.
And my mind and memories got to humming…..
From the time I was born until my parents got divorced when I was a preteen, I had home cooked meals nearly every night. On very rare occasions my mom would order pizza or we’d go to McDonald’s or Taco Time, but that only happened three or four times a year. A couple times a month my grandparents would take all of us out to dinner at Sizzler and that was a treat. (I don’t care how cliche it is, I still love a Sizzler salad bar.)
Otherwise, it was always something made at home. I knew mom was tired if she decided to serve grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup or spaghetti. The days she made lasagna I knew to be on my best behavior because that one dinner would take her all day and I hated the lasagna; I needed to get away with only eating the french bread she also made. That was easier if I was on her good side, otherwise she wouldn’t let me leave the table until I had X amounts of bites of the lasagna.
When my parents divorced all of that disappeared. For a couple years mom still made dinner every night but it was fucking awful. Like living off of tuna casserole- a dish I had previously liked- for several days, even though it was literally just tuna fish, some mayo, and a ton of green beans (which is the only food that makes me gag). I used to be happy to pull the green beans out of that casserole and eat everything else because it was so good. Then it was suddenly just awful. Mom told me she couldn’t afford to make food like she used to.
I didn’t really believe her. I thought she was probably just making excuses so she didn’t have to cook. If she wasn’t cooking for her husband, what was the point? I thought she just didn’t care anymore and I can’t say I blamed her because I didn’t either.
One day I was out riding my bike, as I always did back then, to literally get lost. I’d just keep pedaling, taking random turns here and there until I couldn’t pedal anymore. I’d find a place to sit and hope I was lost, but alas, I knew the town like the back of my hand so I always knew my way back home.
I headed back home, disappointed that once again I hadn’t achieved my goal. At one of the main intersections in town I saw a family parked on the corner. They were in an old pickup truck, two kids in the back on a mattress that was laid in the bed, mom in the cab with a toddler who was desperately sucking on a dry bottle. Head turned upwards as far as it could go, with that bottle upside down not giving him anything but dirty air. The father stood outside the truck with a sign begging for help.
I didn’t say anything but when I got home I couldn’t get them out of my head. I went to the fridge and pulled all of our leftovers from the night before, which had actually been a pretty good meal. I don’t remember now what the main dish or first side was, but I remember packing up the brussel sprouts was particularly painful because it was (and still is) my favorite veggie for most dishes.
As you’ve probably gathered by now, I took all that food, plus what was left of our milk to the family at the intersection.
When my mom came home later that day she opened the fridge and went ballistic. Where TF did all of our food go? I told her the story and she sighed. “Goddamnit, Annie, we needed that food. I don’t have the money to replace it. What are we going to eat now?”
Later that evening she apologized for getting so upset and told me I did the right thing. “I can still find something to make for dinner,” she said. “I was just counting on that, but it’s not like we’ll go hungry.”
So with the conversation I read earlier and my own memories, I started thinking about my own relationship with food and, to my surprise, realized I don’t have a very healthy one.
I will not eat anything that’s not “clean,” (this is a word I use that has a really long explanation but basically means “I know what’s in it.”) This isn’t a problem- probably a pretty decent way to think about food- except that if I cannot afford clean food I simply don’t eat.
We’ve had a tumultuous year so I haven’t been cooking much, if at all, this year. Due to a flood, we were out of our home for the better part of 2021, living in a hotel room with nothing but a microwave and small fridge. We’re finally back home but still not settled- there is a lot of unpacking to do and since we were standing in inches of water when we packed, there is no rhyme or reason to any of the bags or boxes I open. We just ran through the house throwing what we owned in trash bags, pillow cases, boxes, etc.
The other day, I think it was Wednesday, my wife asked me when was the last time I ate? I thought about it and couldn’t recall, and I realized that’s not good. So the next day I decided to make dinner. But it wasn’t actually a dinner.
I slow cooked a chicken and planned on serving it with red potatoes roasted with olive oil and garlic and brussel sprouts. But once I let the chicken cool and rest I took a bite and it was so delicious I ended up just serving myself one entire breast on a saucer with barbecue sauce. I didn’t even realize I was starving until that delicious, perfectly roasted chicken hit my belly.
It’s almost like binging except I don’t overeat. I simply eat sensible servings voraciously. What scares me, as I thought more about this this morning, is that I actually get a buzz when I eat my sensible portions. My body reacts positively and ferociously, like I feel the protein coursing through my veins and feel almost euphoric.
On the other hand, my sister adapted quite well- thrived even- in our poverty dinners. She loved Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese, ramen noodles, all that crap. She felt free and stated over and over that when she was a parent she was going to make her kids MnC and chicken nuggets every night. (She has since changed her ways, but back then when she did feed her kids it was, indeed, the worst processed food available.)
I suppose I’m writing about this because it startled me this morning when I realized I might not have a healthy relationship to food, and the more I thought about it the more I realized that food has been one of the things I most identify with. Beyond being a woman, lesbian, blue girl in red state, cyclist, musician, whatever- the most important thing to me is the food I eat.
I don’t think that’s healthy, even if the foods that I eat are. I never really processed how unhealthy it is to go days without eating, shunning hunger pangs because I don’t have anything to cook. It wouldn’t kill me to eat a Hot Pocket or TV dinner (do we still call them that?) but I have never considered doing that to stave off hunger. I simply accept it and wait until I can make something myself (or go to a restaurant that I trust).
And then I wondered some more…. what can parents do to teach their children how to have a healthy relationship with food, and I’m stumped. If I ruled the world I know exactly what I would dictate, which is similar to what I did as an aunt, but that’s a luxury that many can’t afford. It takes time and money to make three meals a day from scratch. As a DINK that was easy but I wouldn’t be able to do it full time. There were days I worked up to 18 hours. On those days I wouldn’t take the kids, I’d come home, eat a salad, then go to bed.
Basically, if I had the kids full instead of part-time, I wouldn’t have been able to focus so much on what they were eating, rather just that they ate. And I wouldn’t have made them hot chocolate and pancakes every morning because, besides being way too much sugar, it’s a lot of work first thing in the morning. I’d probably throw some PopTarts and cups of milk at them and call it good.
All of this is not an insignificant problem. It goes beyond myself and my memories and into the actual real world where food insecurity and food deserts are real and impactful. So as I pondered my own relationship with food and weighed the arguments about how parents can prevent unhealthy eating, I kept coming back to the same problem.
It doesn’t matter. Parents can’t teach their kids healthy habits when A) the parent is overworked and B) fresh food is expensive and C) a lot of parents can’t even afford cheap food. The intellectual discussions about this don’t seem to dig deep enough to get to that point. My mom DID teach me healthy eating habits when I was a child but she didn’t have the means to provide me with healthy food once she was a single mom.
She had no choice but to feed me crap, which I rejected so fiercely that I went hungry a lot.
How shitty would it have been for her to know that and yet be judged by people for whom this is only intellectual?
So, this is where I ended up after reading/pondering/considering arguments on the internet, and then taking a few hours to go through my own personal experience.
All I’ve got is:
It’s never a bad idea to give a parent the benefit of the doubt because they probably are trying really hard to not fail their children.
We have got to find a healthy and sustainable way to feed our collective children. I don't know how to do that universally (although I give the Biden admin props for not only increasing SNAP benefits but also helping parents with the monthly pay out of the Child Tax Credit).
But something has to give. We have to find a way to feed children healthy food regardless of their parents' financial situation.