Why I Suck as a Parent...

Is it because prior to typing this I was playing fetch with my 2 year old? (Seriously, I was trying to type an e-mail and he kept handing me his ball. I would throw it across the room and he would run after it and bring it right back. Who needs a dog?)

Nope.

Most of you know about my current issues with Micah and his “failure to thrive.” He’s not a great eater and he’s super active, and when we went for his two year check up his pediatrician was concerned about his lack of appropriate weight and height gain from the last visit. So, while I had subscribed to the “this is what we’re eating and you can take it or leave it” method of mealtimes, apparently my kids just don’t care if they starve. They are content to live on Cheerios and drinkable yogurt. Is this why I suck? Nope.

Since that fateful visit, I’ve pretty much let him eat whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I still try to get nutritious foods in him at mealtimes, but the rest of the day is a free for all. 

Globs of peanut butter in a bowl?!? Sure! 

Extra Chick-Fil-A waffle fries AND a milkshake?!? Yup! 

Shots of whipped cream from the can?!? Of course!

I still haven’t reached the point in this little story where I have an epic fail in parenting skills, so here it is.

Micah has been eating much better. It seems the more I let him choose to eat between meals, the more he would eat during meals. This was not holding true for Gabbi, so I thought I would try to motivate her in a different way.  About a week ago, after she ate two bites of her dinner and declared herself done, we had this little conversation:

Me: “Gabbi, do you know how Micah needs to gain some weight so he can be healthy?”

Gabbi: “Yeah.”

Me: “Well, if he doesn’t gain the weight the doctors will have to take some blood to make sure there is nothing else wrong with him. If you don’t eat your food, you might get too skinny, and the doctors might get worried about you too.”

Gabbi: “I don’t want the doctors to take my blood.”

Me: “Well, then you need to eat a good dinner, and maybe try a veggie or two.”

Fail.

After every meal (and sometimes just at random), Gabbi says “Mommy – I don’t want to be skinny! I don’t want them to take me to the hospital and take all of my blood!” I have managed to plant the seeds of an eating disorder at the tender age of 4. Twenty years from now, if you see 400 pounds of poor Gabbi on the Biggest Loser, it’s my fault. 

And that is why I suck as a parent. (This week, anyway.) 

 

Chocolate Peanut butter hearts?!? I'll need at least 12 of them, or else I might get too skinny...