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Sometimes I think that my kids might be the pickiest eaters in the world.

My son loves bagels, but only onion bagels. He won’t even eat plain. I do not understand this, but I have no choice but to acknowledge it when it comes to grocery shopping. My daughter only eats American or cheddar cheese. My son only eats cheddar cheese sticks, only Parmigiano-Reggiano on his spaghetti, and ONLY swiss on his burgers. My daughter is a chicken nugget away from being a vegetarian and my son won’t eat soup, mashed potatoes, pudding or ice cream.

Neither one of them will eat a black bean without a fight.

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Christmas has come and gone, and I’d be the first to admit that I’m kinda sad about it. The feeling is nothing new. I experience a similar malaise each and every year. Do you?

Don’t get me wrong. On the one hand, I’m relieved. All-too ready, in fact, to say goodbye to the stress I’ve felt on account of the over-commercialized holiday. But on the other, Christmas always delivers such tender moments for us, and it’s in those moments that I realize that every hassle building up to them has been worth it.

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Just before she turned three, Sadie cajoled me into giving her ice cream for breakfast and I did it without much guilt. Here’s the thing: when you have a kid who’s well under all the height and weight charts, you don’t want to see them miss a meal. You feel responsible. Unfortunately, Sadie, like me, is not a morning eater. Elby will roll over in her bed in the morning and say, “I’m starving. What’s for breakfast?” as if I’ve forgotten to feed her that month, as if she didn’t just eat a huge dinner the night before. Meanwhile, Sadie will happily go til noon without a bite. Not even a coffee!

It’s not unusual for me to chase Sadie around the house in the morning offering her different breakfast options hoping to spark some enthusiasm for eating. Trader Joe’s strawberry yogurt? Cereal? Breakfast bar? Chocolate chip waffle? Turkey sausage? OH COME ON! String cheese? Chicken nuggets? If it seems pushy it’s because my mood depends on it. This is a child who was only two pounds at birth, who spent a year having to get extra nutrition through a feeding tube and no matter how far from that we’ve traveled, I can still see it clearly in the rear view mirror.

The day a year ago that I gave Sadie a bowl of ice cream for breakfast was the same day that she told me she just wanted ice. Yes, ice cubes for breakfast was her request that day. Sure we all know that ice cubes are delicious -especially the way I make them (the secret is a little extra water). What could I do? I had to get something in her. And that day it was ice cream.

Luckily for me, besides breakfast she eats well, albeit like a typical four-year-old, a bit finicky -one day mac & cheese is her favorite food and the next she hates it- but I don’t let it make me crazy(er).

It’s just that morning time that can get to me. We all know it’s important to get something in them because they are going to preschool and a lot of important learning happens there. Discovering the seasons just can’t go well on an empty stomach.  So the thing is, I”m always ecstatic when I can get her to eat more than a half a mini-waffle. Especially when I don’t have to beg. It’s not attractive.

Remember those Hostess donettes I was carrying on about the other day? Well, the day after I bought them, Sadie ate three of them for breakfast along with a turkey sausage link and a bite of cottage cheese. I practically threw a parade. Read more »

“Hey kids!” I said “Tomorrow you have to eat Donettes for breakfast.”

They looked at me like I was crazy.

“For my work.”

“You are the best mom in the whole world!”

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The Tootie Brothers

My sister came up from New Orleans and was staying with us for a couple of days this past week. The kids were all fired up — they love her. Our oldest looks at the career-oriented, single and stylish woman as a potential bestie — someone whose life she admires, and with good reason.

The tumultuous trio isn’t immune to my sister’s charm, either. Particularly the boys. You can tell they think she’s pretty (which she is) by the flirty method of interaction they bring to the table whenever she’s around. They’re quite smitten.

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The other night, Jon and I grabbed the kids (not hard), loaded them into the car, and headed for our annual drive down Candy Cane Lane.  For those who don’t know, Candy Cane Lane is a neighborhood right here in the Woodland Hills area of Los Angeles, where every house  is decorated in an over the top manner. In fact, if you want to move into that neighborhood you literally have to sign a contract that you will decorate the crap out of your house every year or else…well I don’t know what they could really do to you for refusing to give your front lawn a Charlie Brown Peanuts theme but it’s beside the point. It’s a good time is what I’m really trying to say.

Before we went we grabbed some snacks.

I think I established in a past post here on Babble that donuts make for an excellent negotiation tool when attempting to inspire your children to clean. But since the house has been full o’ donuts (chocolaty frosted devils), well they also accompanied our hot cocoa and Candy Cane Lane expedition quite well.

The thing that Elby most wanted to do was stick her head through the sunroof while we were driving slowly down the street. We let her do it. We’re those parents. Hey, it was fun. Read more »

Okay, that’s totally not true. Well, not toally. I did do breakfast. Just not like Ree Drummond. More like Mr. Drummond. You know. From Diff’rent Strokes. Wait. Did Mr. Drummond ever “do” breakfast? Surely he did. You know, whenever Mrs. Garrett was on vacation. And being the wealthy tycoon he was, I dare say he didn’t have a lot of time on his hands. Which means that when doing breakfast, he probably kept it quick and easy.

Now I may not be a wealthy tycoon, but nevertheless, as the father of five, I am short on time. Still, I promised Caroline I’d do breakfast one day this week. And in telling the tumultuous trio of “daddy’s breakfast,” I billed it as a holiday treat. Which meant all that was left for me to do was figure out was how to combine ”holiday treat” with “quick and easy.”

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I believe the deliciousness of a snack food can be measured by its ability to inspire my kids to listen to me. The stronger the influence over behavior (read: bribe tool) the clearly tastier the treat.

Here’s the problem: My kids are shockingly immune to a lot of typically great negotiation tools: cookies, gum, soda (my kids hate it) and most shocking, Halloween candy. One would think that a plastic pumpkin full of left over Halloween candy would have given me a lot more traction getting my kids to get things done. But one would be wrong. My kids are pretty over everything Halloween from their costumes to the rest of the mini Kit Kat bars. Even though there’s plenty of candy left, I’ve been forced to move on to bigger and better.

So with the holidays coming up, the kids have been extra rambunctious in the evenings. Let’s take a moment to acknowledge that I just used the word “rambunctious.” Am I a grandma all of a sudden? Honestly, who uses the word rambunctious besides little old ladies seated at the next table at Coco’s. “My word your children are certainly rambunctious, aren’t they? And when is that waiter coming back with my red snapper?”

Today I bought a bag of Hostess frosted devils donettes –and then I subtly pulled them out after dinner as if it were no big deal. Read more »

I don’t think of myself as “the cool mom”.  My kids don’t drink soda and we don’t do a ton of sleepovers. I won’t allow a trampoline or a zipline in my yard. I figure that children can break their arms at somebody else’s house. I am also the lady that opens her window and yells at the other neighborhood children to get out of the street.

True story. You can ask my neighbor, Todd.

That doesn’t mean that the neighbor kids don’t like me, they do. They like me for two reasons the first being that I talk to children as if they are adults.

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