Donegal mum Maria Rushe muses on why her kids are fussy eaters... unless the food is beige.
Mammy spends much time planning the weekly eating.
Not because Mammy is a super organised Mammy. More because Mammy loves food so much that Mammy likes to know what is for each meal, every day. Mammy is the sort who when she is eating one meal, she’s already planning and thinking about what shall be next.
The Him first realised this about Mammy when he, as newly acquired Friendboy Him, accompanied Mammy and her bestie, Nickers, on holiday.
You see, whilst Mammy and Nickers sat on the Portugese balcony, munching on watermelon and sweet toast and local sardine paste, the conversation would not be so much about what we would do or where we would go that day, but more along the lines of:
“What do you fancy for lunch?”
“Fish”
“We’ll try that seafood restaurant on the beach so?”
“K”.
“Mmmmmmm shhhhhcallops” drool Mammy and Nickers in unison.
Then, whilst munching on shhhcallops and sipping cold sauvignon at said seaside restaurant, the conversation would be primarily about which restaurant we’d eat in that night.
“Do you two just eat your way around Portugal?” asked a bemused Friendboy Him.
“Eh… obviously?” came the reply from both of us.
And yet he stayed and despite Mammy’s obsession with food and planning all holidays and days out around what food we can eat and where we shall be eating it, and despite Mammy’s love of eating all things weird and wonderful and having to try the strangest thing on the menu, just because, he stayed.
And so now. Mammy puts lots of effort into the purchasing of good healthy food for her minions. On becoming a mother, Mammy had intended to ensure that they shall eat only nutritious and healthy colourful and varied dishes every evening.
Mammy also spends a lot of time staring into the fridge, wondering
1: how there is nothing to eat when I’ve just bought aisle 3 in Aldi-everything and
2: what the chances are of something having prepared and cooked itself while I was at work.
3: Why the hell I bother, because Mammy has also realised a few things.
- Children are twits
- Children don’t give a sh*te how much money Mammy spent on food
- Children don’t give a sh*te how much time Mammy spends cooking
- Children who “don’t eat chucken”, only mean that they don’t eat fresh chicken. Chicken nuggets, chicken burgers and chicken goujons are perfectly acceptable.
- Children who don’t like spuds, only mean that they don’t like Mammy’s spuds. Granny’s are perfectly acceptable.
- Children are twits.
- Regardless of how much effort you put into presenting their food, most of it ends up on the floor anyway.
- Children will eat pasta, but only specific shapes… but buy ALL shapes as their favourite shape changes approximately 3 times per week.
- Children who don’t eat what Mammy gives them, will HAPPILY eat EVERYTHING that is put in front of them in Playschool or Afterschool.
- Children who “aren’t hungry” will always forget this if sweets or chocolate are presented to them.
In fairness, my children are not too fussy…
As long as it’s from the freezer, is battered and is some variation of the colour beige, they’ll devour it.
See? Not fussy at all.
And so Mammy can plan and dream all she wants, but really, she’d be better dreaming of that Portuguese Balcony and shhhcallops and Sauvignon and sunshine.
Because there’s more chance of that happening, than of these two just eating what’s cooked for them.
Mammy x
The Author
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