I swatted away Mr. B who was just about to squirt a glob of ketchup on my freshly grilled swiss cheeseburger, the staple of our Sunday nights (along with Deadwood c*cksuckers, Entourage, a nice glass of red wine, and a chocolate eclair which we split because we eat a lot, not necessarily in that order.)
Me: I only like ketchup on the bottom of my burger.
Him: Staring at me like I just said ketchup grows on trees or that Stephen Colbert isn't ha-larious.
Me: What?! I only like it on the bottom of the burger. If you put it on top of the cheese it just not...
Him: Not what?
Me: Not right. I like it on the bottom. Then it mixes with burger juices and it all soaks up into the bun, rather than slide around on top of the cheese. That's how I like it.
Me: Flipping over my burger and putting just the right amount of ketchup on the bottom.
Him: You wonder why our son is such a picky eater.
Me: He doesn't know I only like ketchup on the bottom of the burger. That has nothing to do with why he won't eat anything.
Him: Shaking his head and wondering how he didn't know that I was a bottom of the bun gal when he married me.
Him: Really? You think so? You should think about that for awhile. Yeah. Think about it. Then maybe you should blog about it.
Maybe I should indeed.
I don't have OCD. I freely admit I have my share of issues, that's not one of them. I just like things the way I like them. OK, I just like food the way I like it. I am Sally (from Harry met Sally) and I will be the first to tell you that I am high maintenance- when it comes to food.
Now if you were to have me over for lunch (I'd love to) and fix me up a nice plate of chicken salad on a piece of iceberg lettuce I would be mortified but I wouldn't berate you or tell you I thought it was DISGUSTING to eat chicken in mayonnaise, I don't care how many apples and raisins you threw in there. I would politely decline. I would excuse my lack of appetite on having a big breakfast or having indian, mexican, thai, something spicy and exotic the night before. If you tried to dish up some fish chowder with real fish bits that I couldn't identify, that you caught last summer on a fishing trip and have kept in your freezer since then, (gah) I would dish up my lactose intolerance and serve it to you with a compliment about how I'm sure it's delicious. For someone. Just not me.
There are a number of items on my hit list. These are non negotiable:
1) Anything with mayo. Anything that has come in contact with mayo. Anything that could mysteriously have mayo in it: french onion dip, creamy salad dressings, coleslaw. If it's white and creamy it's on the list. Except if it's ice cream. See number 2.
2) Sour cream. I really do have lactose intolerance. But I choose my battles. I will always, always eat a mint chocolate chip sundae with chocolate sauce even if I pay for it later.
3) Sausages. All of them: breakfast, brats, italians, hot dogs. (*Exception: I do enjoy a turkey hot dog off of the grill on a hot summer day if it's charred and on a toasty bun. This is nutty. I know.)
4) Shrimp. If I'm going to eat fish it needs to be flak-able (is that a word? Of course it is, it describes my eating habits.) And don't tell me I can pick it out. If you cook anything with shrimp, everything it comes in contact with will taste like - shrimp. That is not acceptable.
I also will not drink beer ever. It's not technically a food but it's on the list. I think it tastes and smells like something that's been brewing in someone's socks. Thank you, no.
Call it neurotic. Call me a picky eater. Call it what you will. I am particular about food. Not my hair, not my yard, certainly not my house. I started to write that I'm not a control freak but wait, am I? No, I don't think I am. Perhaps I'm a picky freak. It's not about control it's about texture.
The thing is, I really like to cook. We eat tasty meals in our house. My list isn't insanely unreasonable. We make glorious pasta dishes, mouthwatering banana bread, grilled salmon and green beans almondine with basil garlic mashed potatoes. mmmmmmm.
I enjoy eating. I've always pictured myself being able to share that with my child. Making him his own little dish of home made mac and cheese. Introducing him to oven roasted vegetables. Sitting at the table, together, partaking in the fruits of my kitchen labor. Nourishing my family.
He won't eat anything.
I used to worry this was a swallowing problem. It's not. If I give the little man a little piece of a strawberry he spits it out. Won't even attempt to chew it. If I give him strawberry bit with a banana bit it goes down just fine. He doesn't even know it. His weight is appropriate and he eats a balanced diet. He's not wasting away, however, it concerns me that his diet consists mainly of the same 10 things over and over. Cheese, yogurt, bananas, peaches, carrots from a can, pea soup, thinly sliced turkey or ham (if it's concealed in bread), black beans and scrambled eggs. I sneak in as much other stuff as I can but if it's not listed above, he's not interested in eating it. The pediatrician is not worried. I'm not worried either. I'm irked.
I've googled this. As far as I can tell, there is no link between your eating habits and the eating habits of your child. I concede that since he came from me it is possible that he may exhibit some similar behaviors but I think this is coincidence, or at best, pay back.
Karma is a bitch. So long as she's a bitch with no mayo or mustard on multi grain bread with a side of basalmic vinagrette dressing (ON THE SIDE), I'll manage to eat it.
