It’s all their fault.
It’s almost as if they are purposefully scheming ways to make us gain weight.
Yes, yes, our children are technically responsible for the 25 pounds (ahem) we put on during pregnancy. But we can’t really blame them for that part, I suppose. I mean, it’s not like they’re actually forcing us to eat Krispy Kreme donuts and ice cream. They are confined within our wombs, for heaven’s sake! There is nothing they can do to force us to guzzle down milkshakes.
The problem is that your child allows you one minute of eating time for each year of their age. So, if you have a one-year-old, you are granted one full minute at mealtimes.
But we still blame them.
So okay, I can concede that our kids often get a bad rap when being blamed for anything over the doctor recommended weight gain during pregnancy, and most of the time it’s probably not their fault.
But man, oh man, once they’re out and among us in the world, that’s where their innocence screeches to a halt.
Those of you in the throes of motherhood with anyone under the age of eight will understand. You want to eat well. Really, you do. You look longingly at the smart outfits hanging in your closet that are still a few pounds away. You’re trying to be disciplined. The problem is that your child allows you one minute of eating time for each year of their age. So, if you have a one-year-old, you are granted one full minute at mealtimes. A two-year-old give you two minutes, and so on.
If your child is under the age of one, you are just out of luck, dearie. You may as well have an intravenous line inserted for a high calorie liquid diet ’cause you ain’t gonna be sitting down for the entirety of an actual meal til the cows come home.
So at first glance, you’d think it would be EASY to lose weight once your child is born. But what nobody tells you is that your kid is like a trained navy seal in finding ways to derail your mission to healthy eating.
You will even go to extraordinary measures like THIS to get your kids to spend more time eating their dinner:
Let’s say you are out for dinner. Little darling is right there with you, of course, and you have dragged half of creation to the restaurant in the empty hope that he will be occupied long enough to allow you to eat in a manner that does not suggest being raised in a barn. You know, good manners and such.
You scour the menu for the lighter side options. After all, ‘lil bit is nearly a year old now, you really should be starting to loosely resemble the woman you used to be in a former life.
Just when you think you have found a salad option that actually looks somewhat appetizing, Junior reminds you of his presence by dumping his entire bowl of cheerios on the floor and trying to break out of his high chair prison.
Salad option is now out the window. Why? You now have 45 seconds before a meltdown. Have you ever tried to eat a salad in under a minute? Impossible. Pretty much anything that requires a fork is out, actually.
And so, with a sigh, you tell the 20-year-old waitress with tiny shorts and dazzling smile that you’ll have the chicken fingers and fries. It’s quick. It’s bite-size. It’s convenient for sharing little pieces with the 25-lb. monster next to you.
My husband commented the other day that I have slowed down when it comes to eating. The girls had of course finished their meals at Newk’s with the speed of light and here I was, still slowly picking over my salad, behaving as if I were on a business lunch or something. The rumblings of complaints were beginning to grow louder, and the “MOM! HURRY UP! AREN’T YOU DONE YET?” comments were reaching higher decibel levels.
Blast it all. Just when I thought I might be at the homestretch of these years when my kids force me to eat hand-held food at all times! Should’ve stuck with the club sandwich and chips.
So don’t feel too bad, mothers. It’s a conspiracy. They’re out for our money, our time, and our thighs.
And they’re winning.