I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way food stopped being food. I mean, it’s food, but it’s not JUST food. Instead, food is a constant evaluation of my character – my goodness, willpower, organizational abilities and my love for my family. In food’s classroom, I’m the likable-but-struggling D+ student.
I should feed my kids healthy, locally-sourced, pesticide-free, preservative-free food because that’s what good moms do.
I am lazily poisoning my kids with non-organic Apples from Chile because I just don’t love them enough and I wanted to save $.70.
I should limit sugar.
I give them juice. I might as well hand them the meth right now! They could at least have some fun while losing their teeth! Do they have organic meth? And I probably shouldn’t bring up the packets of Fun Dip.
I should put time and attention into making healthy, tasty dinners that everyone will like.
This will magically encourage good behavior, intelligent conversation, angelic manners, and family harmony. Then those insanely strong, healthy kids will clean the kitchen. If they misbehave, it’s because I let them eat dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and referred to the non-organic, sugar-laden ketchup as a vegetable. Again.
I should read the labels.
is it organic? is it grass-fed? how many calories are in it? are they getting enough iron? should I limit red meat? how much is a serving? what about carbs? should I be counting carbs? are any of them secretly gluten-sensitive and this wheat is just poison? am I eating too much? are they eating too little?
I should plan weekly menus, shop the sales, use coupons, and make delicious homemade dinners every night.
That involves SO many tiny neurotic decisions that I think I might just shove a fork in my eye.
and here’s the one that really gets me:
I should model good eating habits for my kids.
So yeah, I’m thinking that the diet isn’t going so well because I’ve gone completely batshit insane when it comes to food.