Food fight

Food has always been a battle with Elyse.  I think the root of the problem started when she was an infant and her weight danced on the edge of being a genuine concern.  I used to mentally count the calories she would consume on a daily basis to ensure she had somehow gotten enough.  She didn't progress to table foods well and ate puree's well past the one year mark.  At the time I loved it.  I could put anything in a puree for her.  I could add calories with olive oil and put spinach in just about anything.  She would eat almost anything in a chunky blend with a spoon, but table food, forget about it.  

She got older, I got lazy, she got pushy, and before I knew it I was a short-order chef to this pint sized person.  I've approached this in different manners as of late but tonight I saw the most progress.  Not in the meal, food or eating, but in the battle itself.  My ability to stay perfectly calm and unwaveringly firm.  I said what I meant and I meant what I said.  

She picked out her dinner, all 3 things that sat on her plate she chose and I was okay with all of them (eating what we eat will be another challenge altogether so I'm attempting this one step at a time).  When it came time to sit and eat, she refused.  I set a timer and informed her that when it beeped it meant dinner was over and if she hadn't eaten she would then go to bed.  She sat at the table and cried, hysterically cried.  She was allotted ample time.  Encouragement was given, the rules repeated.  She never took a single bite, not one.  It was 6:45pm and she was put to bed.

I realized mid-battle that she wasn't upset about the food.  It didn't matter to her if she was hungry or not or what was on her plate.  She was upset because she wasn't in control.  Her goal was to bend me until I broke and when it was clear that wasn't happening she just lost it.  My calmness and consistency drove her crazy when I didn't engage in her battle.  However, her obedience in the midst of her tears amazed me.  She spoke sweetly and did everything I asked without hesitation.  Through wet cheeks and a runny nose, she didn't fight me on anything.  Getting up, bringing her dishes to the kitchen, going potty, brushing teeth or saying goodnight.  She didn't want anyone to be upset.  She just new she'd lost and was accepting of her consequence.  That's where the emotion came from.  Defeat.  To her, it hurt.  It hurt because she realized it was HER choice.  She was feeling the sting of owning a poor decision.  Her will was so strong she chose the bitter taste of pride over a flavorful meal and although she chose it, it was so evident how much it bothered her.  

After all this time, I'm just realizing this isn't about food at all.  How many battles could have been spared had I seen this sooner?      

As I kissed her goodnight and tucked her in she sweetly said to me, "Tomorrow I'm going to eat all my dinner."  She was saying so much more than that in that moment and instantly I knew with confidence that we both gained a better understanding of ourselves and of each other.    

This must be what good lessons feel like.  This truly made me a better parent.  There were no hard feelings toward the other person, just a greater understanding of ourselves and of the relationship.  Calm was maintained and consequences rightfully accepted.  A better grasp on self-control and learning that even a 3 year old must be given guidance on the ugliness of prideful decisions.  

I have a good feeling about dinner tomorrow.