A is for Appetite
My oldest son was hungry from the moment he emerged from my body. He weaned himself from the breast when he was first able to hold a spoon and navigate it to his mouth. I was wistful but relieved as he preferred to nurse around the clock. He was a typical red headed firecracker and I was exhausted.
His brother entered the world and immediately took a nap. He was mildly interested in eating, but his first priority was to watch his brother pinball round the room. He sustained life for years on goldfish crackers.
This patterned continued, with the older inhaling his meals and the younger making a marathon out of a single slice of pizza. When my daughter graced us with her presence, she ate like a normal human, favoring fruit, but with little fuss. As they grew, stocking the fridge and pantry has always been a considered thoughtful endeavor. Price, value, quantities and quality all factor in. Costco bulk for the cheap price. Farmers market for quality. Trader Joes for price, quirkiness and convenient, as it’s nearby.
All this escalated enormously when both my boys were in high school. Giant drums of cream cheese, four gallons of milk. Two dozen bagels. Costco became my weekly market. My kids work at the farmer’s market on Sundays, so I was glad to have vendors load us up with freebies on occasion.
But when my eldest left for college and the dust settled, I found myself throwing out food. Milk would linger, crowding the fridge. Hummus went bad. I stopped shopping at Costco altogether and let my membership expire. Turns out it was just him eating almost everything, his younger brother just a grazer, and his eleven year old sister eats like an eleven year old girl.
I no longer knew how to grocery shop for my family. It felt odd to only buy a half dozen bagels and a normal brick of cream cheese, a half gallon of milk. With my eldest living out of the house, a muffin can sit on the counter for an hour or two, untouched. My daughter almost never has to leave a ‘Do Not Eat’ note on her plate when she leaves the room for a moment.
She still needs to hide chips from her other brother, that will never change.
Powered by Linky Tools
Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list...
Oh my! Can I relate to your experiences. I raised three boys and thank heaven my first hubby was in the Navy and the commissary was cheaper than the normal grocery store. Now it's just me and second hubby (and he travels 150,000 miles a year). I'm still learning how to buy for two.
ReplyDeleteIt's tricky isn't it? Bittersweet, but nice to be able to set down my plate and not have it swooped down upon like seagulls!
ReplyDeleteMy 15 year old daughter eats like a fiend!! Our oft told story has us at a local burger joint...asked what she wanted..."I'm not really hungry...I'll have large fries, a cheeseburger, two corn dogs and a milk shake." She is 5'8" and skinny as a willow!!!
ReplyDeleteMy wife is actually in the A to Z challenge blogging about food all month!!
Yes, my daughter is starting down that road. The buttermilk pancakes she's wolfing down in this pic were huge. I saw your wife's dulce de leche post. Wow.
DeleteWhat's really strange is when the kid gets just a little older and stops eating so much! Stopping by from one above you on the A-Z sign up list. Yep. I had to search to find that I'm 1691!
ReplyDeleteUh, oh! Rules state dump the word verification.
http://joycelansky.blogspot.com
Thanks Joyce. How do I disable the catchy word Bot? I tried earlier but April Fools Day gremlins must have prevailed. I'll chech out your blog.
ReplyDeleteHello! Thanks for visiting my blog. I'm delighted to return the favor. It sounds like quite an adventure meeting everyone's differing capacities.
ReplyDeleteLaughed out loud! Thanks, Allison. "Drums of cream cheese"--if I steal that phrase when my boys are teenagers, I'll be sure to give you proper credit.
ReplyDeleteHa ha!! My daughter wanted to nurse around the clock too! Finally, I came to the realization that she wasn't going to die if I didn't feed her 24/7.
ReplyDeleteThe Write Soil