mouthful
April 5, 2016 § 2 Comments
Ever so often, and almost always between seasons, my husband and I commit ourselves, passionately, to a new, good idea. An unfamiliar exercise or a new meal plan, something novel enough to be intriguing without the burden of a long-term mindset. Last fall it was a new cardio routine. This spring it’s a new cookbook. Each, in its own way, a flight of fancy.
Our most recent indulgence required new pantry staples and more invested meal planning. My husband has been blending smoothies and doting over dinnertime. I have been stubbornly resistant, reframing expectations to accommodate those personal preferences that bring me joy.
While my husband stoically drinks his measured water and chokes down protein powder, I have charted compromises. He’s holding steady to the rules, admirably and with more restraint, while I cling devotedly to my morning cup of coffee and conjuring excuses to drizzle honey.
Of all the poor habits I’ve exercised over the years, I am perhaps most proud of my ability to manipulate a chore into an act of playful defiance. I don’t like a one size fits all meal plan and I’m a firm believer in moderation and pleasure.
There will be something new, someday soon, but this exercise of wrestling rules into contrition and cooking up better habits has me smiling in the kitchen, thinking mischievously about good behavior and indulging in healthier bites with smiles.
food for thought
April 11, 2013 § 2 Comments
This week my husband and I traded our familiar foods for a suggested menu of vaguely specific meals intended to cleanse our bodies. I agreed to the experiment in self-control, setting aside my reservations to make room in my kitchen for curiosity; a challenge to create meals within a proposed guideline while still gifting us a sense of satisfaction and pleasure.
In much the same way I prepared food for the day ahead, I reserved a brief moment each day to catalogue my thoughts.
Day 1: My initial emotions are an amusing contrast of frustration and awe. I am acutely aware of what I cannot have, textures and flavors made more enticing once forbidden. On the other hand I lingered in the produce corner of our grocery store, gathering new items into my basket for the days ahead, marveling at the colors and textures of unknown fruits and vegetables.
Day 2: So often, in my experience, food is a source of comfort or escape and within this new experiment consumption has become more intentional. I am more cognoscent of pleasure and unrest. This experience has only just begun, still I hope to incorporate my renewed sense of discovery into family meals and greater consciousness into my offerings.
By the end of this day I began studying the limitations of the week ahead for loopholes; weighing my commitment to the experience against excuses for failure. Underneath this suggestion of compromise is a familiar question, at what point is failure more substantial than the attempt? To fail at the beginning seems to suggest an inability to embrace discomfort; to let go in the middle implies a weakness in conviction; to excuse myself from completion, a failure to endure.
Day 3: The first two days required a singular theme of either fruits or vegetables, today is a medley of favorites from both categories. I am surprised to find myself less distracted by the limitations of the remaining days and more mindful of the days to come after this experience, shuffling the contents of my pantry and kitchen into new expectations.
Day 4: Today is the day we are allowed milk, but I have been disloyal, sneaking soy milk into my coffee from the beginning. Like a toddler toting a blanket on a long trip from home it was a comfort I could not, would not, cede. This may be the most telling detail, my resistance to conformity beneath the suggestion of submission.
Day 5: This morning we began with protein. In much the same way I often chose fruits, vegetables, and milk that are both preferable to my palette and more easily tolerated by my body, I elected to substituted chicken for steak. I was surprised by how heavy the meal settled on my stomach, making me sluggish and drowsy. I would be hard pressed to sacrifice meat entirely from my diet, but the difference in my body’s response is not lost on me.
Day 6: Yesterday’s food is still heavy in my body. I have returned to vegetables as my primary source of nourishment, adding smaller portions of protein. I carved out time for gentle exercise, using movement as a substitute for the restlessness and discomfort I feel. Stubbornly I am clinging to my commitment of completing this shared experience with my husband.
Day 7: Our menu today consists of brown rice and vegetables. My agenda for this afternoon involves creating a menu for the weekend ahead that encompasses greater fresh produce in harmony with protein and a birthday indulgence for my husband.
Looking back over the week there was an ever present, unspoken mindfulness that the extreme exclusion of specific foods and nutrients created a threat of imbalance that undermined my confidence in the program we followed. It is doubtful I would do this again and even more unlikely that I would recommend it to others. Still I take from this experience moments of humor and greater consciousness for my food. It is also important to note that while we honored our daily routines of sharing meals as a family I intentionally excluded my children from the restrictions of our diet.
This particular post is a break from my motherhood excerpts, I wrote this merely to capture my perspective of an experience with no intention of endorsing or guiding other’s choices.
pulling teeth
August 9, 2011 § 1 Comment
In teaching my children to think critically, at some point they hold me accountable. Normally, I embrace the challenge. On occasion, I avoid it like my dentist.
When scheduling my children’s dentist appointments, my daughter asked me when do I go to the dentist. “When you are in school,” I bluffed. She studied my face closely and then knowingly said, “I hope so. That would only be fair.” It was right up there with catching me eating a cupcake for breakfast or running with scissors. I knew that she knew.
What my children do not know is that I am terrified of the dentist. I have never met an unkind dentist, I just cannot find anything pleasant about the experience and thereby immaturely exercise the power entrusted to me as an adult to avoid what I want to, because I am a grown-up now and no one can make me. Back to what they don’t know can’t hurt them.
My children also do not know who I vote for. I am determined that they grow up learning to gather information, balance their own values and priorities against those of politicians, and think for themselves rather than rely on what political party their father or I identify with. This is actually great fun come election time. My son is determined to “out” me and cleverly poses various questions designed to make me identify with a candidate. I put on my Devil’s Advocate hat and debate the opposite side of each coin until my son calls a truce and retreats to construct new questions.
Tomatoes and mushrooms. I do not like these in various forms, but my children are unaware. That’s right, I refuse to have them shun a food until they try it. Once they try it, if they can explain what they do not like about something, I am willing to honor their unique likes and dislikes.
I will confess, they do know I do not like snakes and their father feels equally uncomfortable around spiders. Otherwise, I am a mystery. Getting me to share would be like pulling teeth.
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