Miles was a garbage disposal until just a few weeks ago. This boy would eat almost anything. He actually asked if we would cook the possums we caught a couple of months ago. (Um…no way man) He pulled pieces of lettuce and veggies out of my salad. He ate all kinds of condiments that I can’t even smell without gagging. I admit, I am not a great eater. That kid could plow through a meal in less than 10 minutes and it made me so happy. It was just so easy.
Now, it is a battle for the first bite. It doesn’t even matter what we are feeding him. We all sit down and the trauma begins.
First, he says his belly hurts.
Then, he starts crying for mommy, when I am sitting right next to him. This moan turns into a wail.
We tell Miles that if he wants to scream and cry he needs to be excused from the table. We try to be gentle. He dissolves and begins to near hysterics.
We send Miles to time out. His wails for Mommy escalate and he is inconsolable. To be honest, I keep wondering why they can’t call for Daddy when they are losing their shit. It’s always Mommy when things are disintegrating. Wahoo, my kid wants me when the world is falling apart but wants Daddy when the the good times come. I’m so lucky.
Time out doesn’t work. He never calms down. He whimpers his way back to the table claiming he is ready to eat and when he sits down,. his ailment changes.
Now his belly doesn’t hurt, he is coldy. It’s almost 100 degrees outside and I know this is impossible as I can smell the sweat on the rest of us. Sounds lovely doesn’t it?
In between time outs he moves from coldy to every other malady he can think of. He claims his eyes hurt. I come back with explaining that perhaps that is from all the crying. He says his nose hurts. I remind him that due to the crying his nose is running. Then he moves to the ridiculous. His toes hurt. His fingernails hurt. His hair hurts. His knees hurt. His hands don’t work. His toes are sore.
It goes on and on and then he asks, with tears rolling down his cheeks, if he can have a treat. I hate this moment because I want him to eat his food and I am not against bribery, but anyone who has thrown a fit like this does not deserve a treat. Still, I try to avoid the question and focus on the food.
Everyone tries to help. Sophia and Ross and my brother, who is staying with us, make up games. We try everything.
Everyone else is done eating and focusing on Miles while he moves his food around his plate and whines. I love my little guy to death, but this is too much. Finally, my brother is able to get him to eat by making a contest out of each flipping bite. After 45 minutes of hell, the little man finally takes his first bite and we all hold our breath.
Sometimes he continues and finishes his plate as if he just sat down. Other nights, like tonight, the whining resumes and he is sent to time out. Tonight he finally finished his dinner more than an hour after we started. He sat on the floor of the kitchen with his Dad and ate his grilled cheese. Who doesn’t eat grilled cheese? There were no vegetables to be seen tonight…and still…the meal monster surfaced.
Here’s the kicker. This is happening at breakfast (with bagels people) and lunch as well. I am totally overwhelmed and ignoring other responsibilities and my little blog just to nourish my son. It’s not even working! I can’t seem to explain to my husband how terrible this all makes me feel. He was away last week and was shocked at how bad the situation has become.
Other than meals, he remains my gorgeous, hilarious clown of a son. He continues to light up a room and make me laugh until my sides hurt. He is a joy with a big BUT…
I need your advice and please, share your food horror stories. Should I simply excuse him from the table to his room and not let him join us until he is calm? Should I clear his plate when we all are finished if he sits calmly but does not touch his food? Does anyone have any tips or ticks for me on this one? I am at my wits end.
In good news, Violet is my new garbage disposal and is faster than I am at cleaning the floor. She eats what she finds, but hey, at least it gets clean. Sophia is like a little mommy, trying to help and show how good she is by eating her food and soothing her brother. 2 out of 3 ain’t bad…but it could be better.