When Your Diet Puts Your Children in Peril

Let me set the scene for you. We had kind of a typical day around here. Got the kids up, made breakfast for them (I had an apple) shoved the oldest onto the bus, got the other two cleaned up and dragged them to the Y.

As usual, Candy, the instructor, did her best to break us in Step Class, and she succeeded. I became a mouthbreather in about ten minutes. [FN If you have ever watched people who are working out, you know what a "mouthbreather" is. It's the guy who's gaping like a sweating trout, but you can still see the pain, the silent scream, if you will, in his eyes.]

Dragged the kids back home, got cleaned up, fed them and MY HUSBAND lunch. Had a measley portion of turkey chili with him. Drank a pitcher of mint tea, did some housework and some of the volunteer stuff I do. Made dinner -- Auntie K's Indian Chicken, broccoli, cous-cous and cherry tomatoes.

You may be curious as to what, "Auntie K's Indian Chicken" is. Very delicious. I also think the name is perfect. It's mostly chicken, so it's Chicken. It has spices, so it's Indian. It's not really Indian, however, and I made it up, so it's Auntie K's Indian Chicken. You have to admit, you are intrigued. It's a dish with panache.

[FN First you take chunks of chicken, coat them with whole wheat spelt flour (no egg or breadcrumbs) drissle them with olive oil and brown them in the oven. Then you mix up non-fat yoghurt with cinnamon, tumeric and curry. You mix that into the chicken and put it in the oven until the chicken is cooked through. I use the convection oven and it cooks up in a jiffy.]

Personally, I Iove the stuff. But I was resolved to not eat, because I have a problem with PORTION CONTROL. So I gave each of the kids some broccoli and chicken, and told them to eat it. After MY HUSBAND took his food, I took a little broccoli and about four bites of chicken. It took me less than ten seconds to eat. I seriously considered licking the bowl. I then got up to do the dishes, because better women than me have buckled under the tempting and seductive lure of Auntie K's Indian Chicken (Actually, I think I'm the only adult woman who's eaten it, but others would buckle, trust me).

This is where it got dangerous for my offspring. First of all, they wouldn't eat their chicken. This really pissed me off, because they like the chicken, they were just being naughty, and honestly, I wanted the damned chicken myself, so it just was painful.

We (me and the other half of my parental team, MY HUSBAND) told them that if they did not eat it, they would not be allowed to watch a cartoon after supper. My son, being superior, ate the damned chicken. The girls did not, so we didn't allow them to watch the cartoon.

My youngest, who usually eats like a champ but was just exhausted tonight, then spent the next half hour crying at my feet.

[FN She was exhasted because she played "Guys" with her cousin all day. "Guys" is when they take dolls, crayons, toy cars, pieces of paper, and make them talk to each other as different little characters for hours. It's a lot of work.]

I don't know if a child has ever wailed on the floor next to you while you were trying to do the dishes for a half an hour, but it is a little grating. It is especially grating when you are STARVING and they are wailing because they wouldn't eat the chicken that YOU WANTED.

I did not lose my cool, however. I got them all to bed without making empty threats, which are ineffective, (Like, "I will sell the T.V. to traveling gypsies and you will never watch another cartoon again, so long as I live, so help me God!") or realistic, violent threats, which are effective, but wrong, (Like, "I will come down on you like a HURRICANE, and spank you until the skin of your butt is as hot and red as the heart of a THOUSAND SUNS!") or empty violent threats, which are ineffective and wrong, (Like, "I will take you outside and leave you in a snowbank for the coyotes to EAT!")

So, the night was a success. I fed my family a healthy meal, I did not eat much of anything (sob!) for dinner, and no one got hurt or emotionally scarred (though it was close there for a while). At last check I was at 128, so I'm hoping to see some lucky sevens tomorrow morning. Also, Candy, our local work-out goddess of pain, is teaching another class at the Y tomorrow, so I should be able to chip away at these tube sock arms. Of course, in my heart of hearts I hope it snows and a Girl Scout Cookie delivery truck is stranded out in my driveway by the storm. . . Sorry, I'd probably be more positive if I had some more damned chicken to eat.