Eat, Baby, Eat!

 It’s a challenge for parents to get their kids to eat properly. From the time Baby is given his first spoonful of solids and he spews it down his chin, a mom and dad invest a lot of time and energy trying to get good foods down their child’s gullet.

As young parents, we are unsure of ourselves in our new role, and especially with a strong-willed child, it can be difficult to persist with healthy choices. We may also have to deal with well-intentioned but contrary philosophies within the extended family, which can further shake our confidence. Recently I was at a dinner party where a young mom was trying to feed a child of around 18 months. The child’s great aunt was present, a woman who had never married or had children of her own, and she stiffly stated her opinion: “I don’t see why children should have to eat something they don’t want. We get to eat what we like.”

I kept my opinion to myself. But God has put parents in charge for good reason: a child does not know what’s good for him and, left to his own choices, he would choose the tastes that easily pique his palette. Sugary treats are a good example. Nobody has to be taught to like sweets. I well recall our little Melissa as a one-year-old getting her first taste of ice cream. She just about went crazy with excitement, so eager for the next bite. And this is such great fun for a parent, it makes it easy to indulge that precious little appetite.

But sugar is nutritionally void, and as the body digests it, it must rob nutrients from elsewhere in its stores to accomplish the task. Essentially, sugar, along with other junk foods, creates a nutritional deficit, and if we are not choosing lots of other vitamin- and mineral-rich food, we will find our kids—and ourselves—down the road in a very unhealthy state.

Even worse than refined white sugar is high-fructose corn syrup, which is now the sweetener of choice for most manufacturers. Bad for our kids and bad for us. Whether it’s your favourite frappa-cappa-jappa, as my husband calls those designer coffee beverages, or baked goods or soda pop or ice cream, most people unwittingly consume HFCS on a daily basis. There are a lot of health problems burgeoning from this major shift, which began in the 1970s, but one of the most sinister is how HFCS impacts a couple of hormones, leptin and ghrelin. Leptin is the “satiety” hormone; it tells your body when it’s had enough to eat. HFCS shuts it down. Ghrelin, on the contrary, is the “hunger” hormone; it tells you when you need to eat. HFCS turns it up. Did someone say obesity epidemic?

Something else: I was quite alarmed, just a few days ago, when I read that HFCS and all its effects are passed along to a nursing baby through breast milk. And of course, it is used in many infant formulas as well.  Scary! So from the get-go, many of our little ones are becoming victims of hormonally confused appetites. And while their tastes for unnatural foods are getting primed, their interest in real food remains undeveloped. It is not uncommon for people young or old to be hesitant to try different foods. New tastes have to be acquired, and it takes time, especially for a child.

Many young parents today have grown up without learning much about food and nutrition. I remember a few years ago, a friend of one of our kids, a gal in her mid-twenties, was sitting on a kitchen stool watching me prepare dinner. “Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, rather wistfully. She went on to explain that her mom, left alone to raise two children, had had to work long hours to raise her little family, and supper every night came from a box that went straight from the freezer to the microwave. 

But even when a mom or dad really knows her or his way around the kitchen,  there is a deeper issue that needs to be addressed. You can know everything about good nutrition, but if your child won’t eat what you put in front of him, it’s no help at all.

Here’s our story: When Ben was three years old, our first garden came to fruition. We still talk about that night at supper when I placed in front of Ben a plate with, besides the usual meat and potatoes, some lovely fresh chard and beets. Ben turned up his nose at the vegetables and refused to eat them.

I cautioned Greg that the health unit, at my recent visit, had addressed this very problem, and this was their solution: put a small portion of “whatever the rest of the family is eating” on the side of the plate, “in case he wants to try it,” along with “a peanut butter sandwich or whatever else your child wants.” 

Greg looked at me hard for a moment and then said, “I don’t know about that; I think I’m going to treat it as a discipline problem,” and so saying he marched Ben off to the bedroom and paddled his bottom. I only went along with Greg’s “unscientific” methods initially because I whole-heartedly embraced God’s directive of a wife following her husband’s lead. (This principle of submission may be a cause of offence for some, but I will have to leave that for another time.)

My husband and son returned to the table, and Ben promptly finished his entire meal. He never again questioned eating what was on his plate. As the other three kids came along, they simply followed suit: they saw their older brother eating it (whatever “it” was), so they did too.

I'm certainly not advocating spanking babies like the ones in these pictures (our granddaughter Symphony; a great-nephew, Hayden; and a friend's little boy, Tayen). But some may strongly object to spanking a child of any age to make him eat his food. However, this is what God’s Word says: “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him” (Proverbs 22:15, KJV). Or as the New Living Translation has it, “A youngster’s heart is filled with foolishness, but physical discipline will drive it far away.” “Chasten (discipline) thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying” (Proverbs 19:18, KJV). In other words, don’t let your emotions give in to his tantrums or his obstinance.

If you simply don’t agree with spanking, there is a good alternative, but it requires the same degree of firmness and determination on the part of the parent. At mealtime, serve him up a reasonable portion of everything you have prepared. He must stay in his chair until he’s done. If he insists on leaving, the meal is over. Save everything he didn’t eat in case he gets hungry before the next meal. 

Absolutely nothing else, except water. Snacks between meals are a privilege for the kid who cleans up his plate the first time around, at the table.

But I will warn you: it’s going to take a lot more time and energy to enforce this while the child learns that you mean business. A firm spanking, calmly administered, one that really smarts for a few minutes, will quickly convince your child that you are the one in charge and that you really do mean what you say.

If we don’t put our foot down about our children eating what’s put in front of them, they may well remain picky eaters all their lives. Greg and I are not above challenging young adults who are guests at our dinner table. I remember a young man eating with us, another friend of our kids, and when I offered him the appetizer, a delightful creamy beet soup that I make, he said, blowing off soup and grammar all in one short sentence, “Me and beets don’t get along.” Well, Greg told him the story of Ben and the beets and chard. The young man then deigned to accept a small serving of the soup. He tasted it cautiously, ate it all up, and then asked for more. Never too late for a firm hand on fussy eaters!
                 

This is the loop parents get stuck in: The child refuses to eat a proper meal. The parent worries that the child must have something in his belly and reverts again to junk food so that the child will not “go hungry.” So the belly gets filled—somewhat; the edge is taken off the appetite; and the child is confirmed in his narrow, willful choices and moves toward a state of malnutrition.

We carry quite a responsibility as parents. Our child is completely under our control—or should be!—regarding what he puts in his body, at least for the first several years; and this is when life-long food habits are established. It is our soul—our mind, our will, and our emotions—that determines what foods our child is offered. This is where we must not let our “soul spare for his crying.” We must choose well for him or her. Think in terms of 25% meat, 25% complex carbs—like brown rice or whole-grain pasta, and 50% vegetables. This is a good rule of thumb for adults as well.

We would never dream of putting any other fuel in our car or truck than what it is designed to use, even if we drive an old clunker. And we certainly fill the tank when we should so that we don’t run out of gas. Surely our bodies deserve at least as much respect as that, considering they are the vehicle that God has given us to move around in—and in which, amazingly, He chooses to ride around with us. “What?” says His Word, “don’t you know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit?” (1 Corinthians 6:19).

As Christians, we must continually allow the Spirit of God to work through our own spirit and to rule over our soul—concerning what we eat and what we teach our children to eat. Nutrition is not magic: it doesn’t happen just because we put something in our mouths. Our bodies absolutely need certain nutrients, and if they are not present in the food we serve ourselves and our families, then everyone’s health is going to suffer.

I’m Nothin’ Till Somethin’ Loves Me

When I was a teenager, my sister Polly, a year and a half older than I, made this philosophical statement: “Everyone is basically insecure.” I accepted it as fact; never questioned it. The wisdom of her age was worthy of my respect.

I still think her observation is true, except now I might qualify it by saying “almost” at the beginning of the sentence. I have to allow for exceptions, because my husband is very secure, and he says he has always been that way. “It’s because,” he explains, “I always knew I was loved.” Throughout his childhood, he felt free at any time to go and hug his mom and bury his face in her ample waistline, no matter what she was busy with.

Something else that happened when I was a teenager: a girlfriend gave me a gift on my birthday, a figurine, a woebegone little fellow with a soft shock of synthetic, black hair. He held a sign that read, “I’m Nothin’ Till Somethin’ Loves Me.” I always liked that little guy, and I kept him for a long time.

When I was 24, God revealed His great love to me and my life was forever changed. His love made the difference. Now when I looked at that little guy, I thought of the love of God. I had begun to study the Bible faithfully, the King James Version, and one day I came across Romans 5:8: “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” If that little guy was asking a question, here was the answer.                   

I spent some time musing on this subject in an unpublished manuscript called Marriage by Faith:

We all have a need to know we are loved…. We all need to be in relationship with others, whether in marriage, in meaningful friendships, or in community. And yet I believe that, for most of us, the default setting with which we were born tells us subliminally that we are unlovable and alone.

Unlovable and alone.

I believe this is a reflection of what came down to us through Adam from the Fall. No matter what our belief system or lack thereof, there is an overshadowing uneasiness, a feeling of unworthiness, a deep loneliness, a sense of abandonment, a fear of never quite measuring up.

It’s not that God has left us alone: remember, He came after Adam and Eve, calling to them, “Where are you?” But the separation caused by Adam’s choice to act independently of God left a genetic stamp of isolation on all of us.

This is what is so vital about the mystery of Christ dying on the Cross. In this unfathomable provision, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Corinthians 5:19). Ever since, reconciliation has been an established fact for the whole world; it only remains for each of us to understand that and accept it. Until we do, this deep sense of isolation pervades and prevails. It is a measure of our true state.

When we are reconciled, individually, to God, we find tremendous relief from that loneliness, and we know without a doubt that we are deeply loved. But as we grow in God, we find that we don’t stay in that easy place of security; rather, that God is continually at work, stripping off layer after layer of wounding and demonic lies and accusations, to render us able to truly enter in to the security of His love.

Speculating on the thoughts above, I was intrigued to come across a quote of C.S. Lewis that addresses the same thing:

“Apparently, then, our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honour beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache” (The Weight of Glory).

I’ve been reading a book called More by Todd Wilson. He tells the story of a beautiful golden retriever they had. Initially obedient and compliant, she began to chew up carpets and furniture while they were away at work. When they finally went to a vet for help,

The veterinarian quickly diagnosed the problem. Separation anxiety. … (A)lone and isolated… (h)er loneliness overflowed into bad behavior.… (D)eep longings to be returned to her master … produced unhealthy behaviors.

He then draws a parallel between that dog and us.

We are all born with a form of separation anxiety. The quiet, persistent, often unrecognized gnawing of the pain of separation from our heavenly Father produces equally unhealthy behaviors in each of us” (Page 34).

“I’m nothin’ till somethin’ loves me,” said the little guy with the sad face. Twenty-five years after he was given to me, I had a friend make me a plaque with a platform for him to stand on. Because his message now seemed incomplete without the quote from Romans, I had her inscribe it above his head: “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” I loved the message it proclaimed: our problem and the solution.

   

But one year when we were between homes, a shed in which we were storing our belongings was broken into and a lot of things went missing, including that dear little guy. The plaque was still there, however. For years I kept my eyes open for a figurine that could replace him. 

Then one day in a dollar store, I saw a statuette of a little girl that fit the bill. For a toonie, she was mine. I made her a new sign and set her up on the plaque, on the wall in our main floor bathroom, where visitors could contemplate her and her message in private.

But the glue I used to fix her in place was weak. The day came when Greg bumped the little girl and she broke loose, fell, and hit the ceramic floor, knocking a large hole in her skirt. Some days later, I painstakingly glued the pieces back, one by one, into her dress. But some of the bits had gone missing; even once I had replaced every piece Greg had salvaged, there was still a hole left. The sign she holds covers it nicely, though, and I think the evidence of “the fall” is fittingly symbolic. We have all been hurt and damaged. However, once we have found the love of God, the scars are no longer signs of brokenness but, rather, proof of our healing.