Musings on eating, with two hands

If not for that well-placed comma in today's post title, you just might think what follows will be all about double-fisted dining. That's not it at all. Today I'm spouting recent thoughts I've had on the contradictions related to kids and how they eat. Or don't eat.

On one hand (this is the "two hands" part), we all know about, are concerned about the frightening statistics on childhood obesity today. The issue tops the list of those addressed by our first lady, health and welfare organizations, doctors, school lunch programs. Most importantly, it's something on the minds of many a parent and grandparent.

We all want our kiddos to eat less, move more, be in better shape overall. Privately as well as publicly, we show concern that kids are exercising too little, eating too much.

That's on one hand.

On the other hand, always on the minds of mothers and grandmothers, more so than anyone, is how the heck to get our little ones to eat. Especially when it comes to toddlers. They don't seem to eat when we want them to or what we want them to.

In direct contrast to the obesity issue, there's the continual concern on the part of many a frazzled parent or grandparent that a child isn't getting enough food. There are books, magazines, websites, television programs dedicated to helping figure out how to get some food into the mouths and tummies of those tiny tots so they can grow up big and strong.

We beg, plead, cajole, bribe, sometimes even punish, all in the name of getting Junior to eat. I'm not talking about just veggies and other healthy foods. If you regularly enjoy the company of a child under the age of five, you likely know what I mean.

My oldest grandson is the very pickiest of the pickiest kids I have ever met. That darn kid doesn't like pudding...or whipped cream...or jello. He doesn't like jelly on his peanut butter sandwiches. He refuses to eat cheese quesadillas if the brown spots on the tortilla are noticeable. And he has never, ever had a hamburger—not even as part of a McDonald's Happy Mealin. Not in his entire life. Seriously. "I don't like them" is his response when asked why. How he knows that is your guess as good as mine, since he's never had so much a nibble of a burger.

Yet he does like avocados, broccoli, salmon. A kid can't live on those things alone, though. Well, they probably could...maybe...but that's not being realistic. So his mom and dad (and grandma and other caregivers, at times) spend inordinate amounts of time and energy trying to get the kid to eat. Anything. I used to think Megan was making it up. Then I spent extended time with Bubby and came away wondering—still wonder—how he manages to stay alive much less thrive.

Then there's his brother. My youngest grandson. My Mac. The happiest little eater ever. Mac dives right in, willing to experience all things edible—plus things non-edible at times, too. He even dipped into the salsa dish just like the big boys when we recently visited a Mexican restaurant. Sure, he once famously sneered and snarled at strawberries, but he gobbled them right up the very next day, so those Grandma served up just must have seemed exceptionally tart to him.

Mac enjoys food, enjoys eating. Nearly anything. Megan sent me the following photos the other night of Mac happily trying out a new recipe she had cooked up.

 

Bubby greets Mommy's new recipes with disdain; Mac delights in them, requires a big fork to to satisfy his big appetite.

On one hand there's Bubby, who refuses to eat. On the other hand there's Mac, who eats anything and everything.

On one hand there's the problem of childhood obesity and the need to get kids to eat less and better. On the other hand there's the frustration and desperation many parents face in trying to get their kids to eat anything at all.

Parenting can be a challenge, and never more so—nor more conflict-ridden—than when it comes to kids and food. The getting them to eat, but not eat too much.

Just one more reason I'm glad I'm Grandma to little ones, not Mom. I get to muse; Megan/Mom gets to wring her hands while trying to figure out how to make her kids eat—just not too much.

Today's question:

What has been your bigger challenge as a parent or grandparent: Getting kids to eat less and more healthy or getting them to eat anything at all?

I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)

Remember the old Meatloaf song, the over-the-top and emotionally draining "I Would Do Anything For Love (but I won't do that)." If not, feel free to take a moment and refresh your memory here.

That song has run through my head several times in the past few weeks, in response to recent news reports. For when it comes to my family and friends—my daughters in particular, in this instance—I sincerely would do anything for love. Whatever that anything may be, whether time, money, attention, affection, I will do and give to the full extent I'm able.

But, as that earworm of a song says, I won't do that. That being what some incredible and amazing mothers—grandmothers, really—have recently made the news for doing.

SO BLESSED MY GRANDSONS CAME NATURALLY.You may recall the many stories online and off about the kind and courageous—and physically fit, I must add—grandmother who served as a surrogate for her infertile daughter. The daughter was repeatedly unsuccessful in carrying a child to term, so the sixty-one-year-old mother, who had gone through menopause ten years prior, agreed to hormone supplementation and in vitro fertilization of her daughter's egg and her son-in-law's sperm. She successfully carried to term and in August, delivered via Cesarean section her daughter's biological daughter. Her own grandchild.

What an amazing gift to give a beloved daughter. And this most recent woman is not alone, as such surrogacies have taken place countless times in the past.

I truly, madly, deeply love my three daughters. But I don't think I'm selfless enough to commit to being a surrogate for any of them.

Serving as a surrogate isn't the most recent act of selflessness on the part of a mother, a grandmother-to-be, that has made the news. Yesterday's newspaper (yes, I read the actual print paper) featured a story abouttwo Swedish women who underwent the world's first mother-to-daughter uterus transplants, in hopes they will be successful in getting pregnant and giving birth. That's two daughters with two mothers who gave up their uteruses (uteri?) for the love of their child. One daughter had her uterus removed because of cancer, the other was born without a uterus. Now, thanks to their moms, they each have one. Now the quest to bear children is on.

I honestly cannot imagine the point of desperation one must reach in order to consider, much less do such a thing. Such a heartbreaking state it must be. Regardless, if any one of my daughters came to me entertaining such a thought, suggesting such a plan, I couldn't do it. I really am not that strong, not that selfless.

And I really am not so committed to becoming a grandma that I'd birth my own grandchildren.

Although, I already am a grandma, so I can't say for sure.

I'm not judging any of the grandmothers who sacrifice in such a way, I promise. I truly think they are incredibly loving, giving women who have gone above and beyond the call of duty of a mother, of a grandmother. I'm just trying to understand the degree of cojones it takes. And why I don't have them, what I'm lacking that makes me, as a mother, unwilling to do such a thing for my own daughters, if need be.

In all honesty, because of various health issues, I'm pretty darn sure I would not be physically able to be a surrogate or offer up my uterus to be transplanted into my daughter. My oldest happened to be visiting as I wrote this, and I asked her if she'd ever consider requesting I be her surrogate or uterus donor. Her immediate response was "no," because of what the health repercussions may be to me, her mother.

I admit to being a wee bit thankful for those health issues that make me a poor candidate. They save me from having to find out for sure how deep is my love, for my girls, for my future grandchildren. At least when it comes to doing that. Because—more honesty here—I can't be one-hundred-percent certain that I wouldn't do such a thing, if it would make all the difference in a daughter's world if I did.

I pray my girls never reach the point of such desperation for children that surrogacy and transplants requiring my participation are a consideration. For any of us.

When it comes to my daughters, I really, truly, honestly would do anything for love.

But I won't do that.

I don't think.

And I hope I never have to find out for sure.

(Photography by Alison Baum. Full stories on the women mentioned can be found here and here.)

Today's question:

How about you? Would you do that?

The Saturday Post: Grandparents in the U.S. edition

Ever wonder what kind of impact grandparents have on the lives of their grandchildren, other than the impact I wrote of here?

Well, wonder no more, thanks to this nifty infographic from Generations United:

(Click HERE for original image, which you can click to enlarge.)

Pretty impressive stuff, wouldn't you say?

Happy Saturday, one and all. Make it a memorable one!

Grandma-shaped impressions

As grandmothers, we influence and inspire our grandchildren in myriad ways, leaving grandma-shaped impressions on our grandchildren that may last a lifetime. Sometimes our influence is intentional. More often, though, it's not.

My maternal grandmother inspired me to communicate through the written word, though I doubt she consciously planned the impact she had on me. Especially as her greatest influence came once I was an adult, not when I was a child. During the first decade or so of my adulthood, my grandma and I regularly exchanged letters. I was honored she took the time despite her failing eyesight to share the this and that of her days and express concern about mine. Her handwriting—so tiny, tight, and perfectly aligned, thanks to placing a sheet of paper beneath each line then going back to add the tails to any Y, P, J, or G requiring such—illustrated the power of words to connect, affirm relationships, express love across miles. To this day, I'm far better at expressing myself in writing than in person. I attribute a fair amount of that to those letters from Gramma.

My paternal grandmother also unintentionally influenced my character. The grandma-shaped spot she left, though, was imprinted on me as a child. I loved my grandma on my dad's side, yet she and I weren't close by any means. She had oodles of children who had oodles of children of their own, and I'm pretty sure that to her I was just another one of the many kids who showed up at her place on weekends and holidays. I always remember that grandma as being sick or out of sorts much of the time. Not frail and bedridden, just impaired to some degree—and being quite vocal about the real or imagined injustice of her infirmity. From having often seen my grandma in such a disgruntled state, I learned to be quite strong—and usually silent—in the face of most illnesses or ailments. That's a good thing, I think, and I attribute it to wanting to do the very opposite of what I saw in my grandma.

MY GIRLS WITH GRANNY (LEFT) AND GRANDMA CARPENTER.

When I consider the ways my daughters were influenced by their grandmothers—my mom, my mother-in-law, my step-mother-in-law—I imagine the ways those women affected my girls, when they were little and now that they're grown. I've not asked my daughters about it, but I can see smidgens of the grandma shapes on them, attributable to each of their grandmothers.

The girls have seen their step-grandma, Jim's step mom, only a handful of times. Each time, though, involved doing a craft project, resulting in, at least partially, the girls' artistic streaks and BRIANNA AND ANDREA WITH GRANDMA (MY MOM).enjoyment of crafts. I see impressions of my own mom—a lover of animals, dancing, and offering far more food than necessary—on each of my daughters in their attention to animals, enjoyment of goofy dancing, and desire to gift food upon those they love. And I attribute much of my daughters' commitment to their faith to my mother-in-law, who was the most joyfully faithful example in all of our lives.

My grandmas and the grandmas of my daughters likely didn't consider how their daily actions and interactions would influence, possibly even inspire, the children birthed by their own children. Kids they weren't around every day, yet whom they affected in unexpected and unintentional ways. Ways that even as adults, continue to affect us, move us, guide us.

Which leads me, naturally, to consider how I might be affecting my grandsons in unexpected, unintentional ways. What grandma-shaped impressions am I leaving on them?

Like my own maternal grandma, I live far away from my grandchildren. Yet influence and inspiration knows no boundaries, and I have no doubt I impact them through even the limited interactions we have. The idea warms my heart. It also, though, gives pause to my heart as I think of which negative traits of mine might be ever so obvious, unattractive, undesireable to my grandsons. Now or eventually.

I hope that with any and all unseemly attributes of mine, my grandsons do as I did with my paternal grandma—the very opposite, improving themselves by seeing in me and my failings exactly what not to do.

As I continually strive to intentionally make a positive difference in the lives of my grandsons, I think it's also worth considering all the unintentional ways I might be making a difference in their lives. I hope that when they're adults, they can pinpoint specific acts and traits of mine that made an impression on them, shaped the characters they'd become.

And I hope they look fondly upon those impressions, for better or for worse. That they consider the grandma shape imprinted upon them as having inspired them to be stronger, more productive, more compassionate, more faithful, more loving—of others, of themselves, of life.

Regardless of whether such inspiration was intentional on my part or not.

Today's question:

What unintentional impression did your grandmothers leave on you?

The Saturday Post: Letter to my grandchildren edition

Though the music in the following video is a wee bit, hmmm, tranquil for my taste, I do agree with nearly every one of the sentiments. Especially the mention of leftover meatloaf sandwiches—something I love but know my grandsons have missed out on...so far.

Today's question:

Which of the wishes did you find especially poignant and which (if any) do you disagree with?

The Saturday Post: Call Me Maybe - Grandparents Day edition

Seems there's a lip-synching Call Me Maybe video by and for anyone and everyone.

This one by and for grandparents and Grandparents Day ranks as one of my favorites.

Best wishes for a happy Labor Day weekend!

Oh, how they grow

When I visited my grandsons last weekend, it had been only two months since I'd last seen them. We all know, though, how quickly kiddos change and grow, so in those two short months Bubby and Mac changed and grew in myriad ways.

Here are just a few:

Mac no longer sits in a high chair or needs help going up and down the (carpeted) stairs.

Bubby says things such as, "Gramma, you don't need to worry about me because I know how to use scissors now" when doing crafts and, "I'm going to build a contraption" when explaining how he plans to proceed with his play.

Mac says big words, too, at least for a 14-month-old. Words such as bubble and book, uh-oh and down, Mama and more.

Bubby no longer calls out from the bathroom, "I'm done...!" and can now wipe himself.

Mac no longer eats crayons—most of the time—and can now color with his brother.

Bubby has figured out how to do cartwheels on the trampoline.

Mac has figured out how to lie on his tummy in the bathtub—something he refused to even attempt until this past Saturday night.

Bubby has also figured out how to flatter the ladies—especially Mommy—recently delivering this perfect line after she kissed him goodnight: "Mommy, sometimes your kisses are better than snacks."

Oh, how they grow.

One thing Mac and Bubby haven't outrown, though, is loving on and posing for pictures with Gramma.

Oh, how I hope they never do.

Today's question:

In what ways have you recently noticed that your grandkids or kids have grown?