LAST WORD
It Takes a Village
How My Child’s Eating Habits Changed
and I Had Nothing to Do With It
BY KATHRYN STREETER
T “I felt helpless
as a mom, trying
to balance what
I knew was
‘normal’ while
also agonizing
that unlike most
kids, my son
refused carrots
or grapes.”
­— KATHRYN STREETER
GETTY IMAGES/E+/PINSTOCK
he sun descended into the ocean, a fiery
orange ball igniting disco-like flashes across
the rolling waves.

Sunburned, the kids were weary, beginning to
fray. Parents faced the aftermath of a full day at
the beach, involving lots of sand tracks through
the house and messy baths because of said sand.

The grandparents turned their attention to
dinner: It was burger night.

Unlike everyone else, my son’s burger was
plain; he wouldn’t let lettuce and tomato ruin his
hamburger. The cousins sat together at the bar,
boys to one side, the giggly girls the other. Cough-
ing and vomiting suddenly hushed all laughter
and conversation.

“Ewww! Gross,” the girls shrieked.

A cousin had pranked my son, hiding a small
succulent piece of lettuce in his burger. Every-
thing in my kid’s stomach from the day now
decorated his once-plain burger.

I caught my weary head in my hands. This
scene was a vivid reminder that our son had
issues with vegetables. He started rejecting fresh
produce as a wee toddler, but it wasn’t until he
began gagging and throwing-up that I accepted
his aversion wasn’t in his mind or a childish act
of rebellion. With the exception of applesauce, he
simply couldn’t tolerate the texture of produce.

As he grew, he enjoyed junk food like any
kid. Candy. Ice cream. Chips. When junior high
arrived, energy drinks were the rage and my son’s
friends introduced him to Monster. I felt helpless
as a mom, trying to balance what I knew was ‘nor-
mal’ while also agonizing that unlike most kids,
my son refused carrots or grapes. He looked like
the picture of health, but I worried a lifetime of
bad eating habits would dog him.

My admonitions that he re-try fruits and vege-
tables every so often didn’t only fall on deaf ears,
they deepened his resistance. All things consider-
ing, I let go. I couldn’t fix this. Instead, I choose to
prioritize my relationship with him.

And then, one day, everything started chang-
ing. My son was required to read Michael Pollan’s
“The Omnivore’s Dilemma Young Readers Edi-
tion” for his ninth grade English class. Using the
question “What’s for dinner?” as a prompt, Pollan
unpacks what is hidden in the everyday foods we
consume. My teen’s curiosity was whet. What he
learned appalled him.

54 WashingtonFAMILY MAY 2019
“Do you actually know what we are eating, Mom?”
His reaction was pure disgust as he learned
what processed food is. Frowning, he read food
labels. Around the dinner table, he singled out
corn, but not in the way you may think.

“Corn-filler is slipped into just about every-
thing we eat. It’s terrible for you!” I was getting
lectured, but I didn’t mind. Every fleeting anx-
iety I’d had about his posture toward food
vanished. Overnight, he had morphed into an
advocate for health, urging me to quit buy-
ing white rice. White rice, he explained, was
stripped of all its protein and minerals so it had
a longer shelf life.

“Brown rice is loaded with protein. Get that.”
Nodding, I listened in silence. This book was
teaching him in ways I couldn’t.

When he changed, I had to change, too. Whole-
grain bread for sandwiches and protein-packed
energy bars fill my grocery cart. For breakfast,
granola fresh out of the grocery storage bins or
oatmeal, the old-fashioned rolled oats kind, “Not
the instant packets, Mom!”
I had been regularly buying ice cream for my
teens but suddenly it got freezer-burn. Sugary
cereal got stale. He cut back on all of the processed
foods I’d stocked the pantry with. He boosted his
water intake. Gratefully, he had always liked fish
and we stepped up our consumption.

On an ordinary school night, I tap on his bed-
room door. “Tea.” He’s quit dessert and instead,
ends the day with hot tea. Taking chamomile back
to his room also gives me a chance to say good-
night to my high-schooler. In the morning, out of
the corner of my eye, I see him remove a bag of
Pringles from his brown-bag lunch.

“That’s junk, Mom. Empty calories.” He
reaches instead for almonds and cashews.

“I’m still getting the hang of this!” Truly, I am.

There may come a day when he reattempts a
hamburger with lettuce. But even if he doesn’t,
his foundational thinking about food and health
no longer troubles me.

I know I can’t take any credit for this vic-
tory and honestly, it doesn’t matter. I long ago
accepted that it takes a village to raise a child.

Today, I recognize that books are influential
members of this community as well. ■
Kathryn Streeter is a D.C.-based mom and blogger.




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