Meet The Fosters : food

A Weekend in September

TheFosters — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 00:40:00 GMT

The thing about this weekend is that we didn't have an agenda. There was no place to go, no where to be, nothing that we really needed to do. After spending the entire day on Friday working on emergency repairs to our house with the assistance of a plumber (just love those plumbers), we were faced with a Friday night, a Saturday and Sunday all to ourselves. We relished the weekend's possibilities. We kept asking each other, "what do you want to do today?" Of course everything revolves around the little moon boy and his nap schedule.

On Friday night we went to one of our favorite restaurants, not because the food is all that great-it's okay. It just happens to be one of the best outdoor eating places in the city, right on the water next to a small park in a historic part of town. And sitting outside has its advantages, namely screams and flying food are not as noticeable when one is not in an enclosed space. At dinner Ty exhibited his mastery of the straw. It has taken some real effort over the last month to get him not to chew it.

After dinner with the boardwalk and park right there, we spent time running after the little man, making sure he didn't veer into the wedding party outside the restaurant or too close to the water's edge.

On Saturday morning the house was quiet at 7:30 am. It was amazing. We intended to take a stroll through the neighborhood and catch a yard sale down the street. The sale was a bust, but the morning was so nice we wandered down to the old village about a mile from our house. We went to a new breakfast place and sat outside. Then we headed to the local elementary school and hung out on the playground equipment. Believing that we were off for a short stroll we left the diaper bag at home. And after having had one big breakfast, one of us ended up with a dirty diaper. I know because just as we were about to go down the really big twisty slide, you could see the far away look and the head very still, the clear concentration and then the, "okay I'm done moment." By then he was climbing in my lap yelling to go down the slide. I turned to Darrow and notified him that I was showing real love, the love that only a parent could give or for that matter, understand. Yes Ty, you can sit down in my lap with your dirty stinking diaper and we can go do the slide-but just once, errrr, maybe twice, but that's it!

After a really long nap where both Darrow and I got lots of things done, we all settled down in the dining room for a little lunch. Darrow's left over pizza pie-really good! With lunch finished we sat for a moment waiting for what comes next and out of the blue Darrow leaned forward over the tray on Ty's high chair and began to sing to him-Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. It was such a startling thing to watch. Ty leaned forward almost close enough to touch Darrow's face. He seemed to marvel over the sound coming out of Darrow's mouth. His face lit up with a smile and eyes fixed upon the sound. And at the end he put his hands together in raucous applause. At that point I asked Darrow if he was trying to make me cry. And without skipping a beat, Darrow started again and it was the same reaction-fixed stare, big smile, glowing face. But as the song continued Ty's expression began to overwhelm us both. Darrow was unable to finish the song, but it didn't matter. Ty broke into laughter and started clapping anyways, thinking the song was over. I realized afterwards that choking up wasn't always about our situation. Sometimes it happens just by watching the amazing little things that happen to us, like this little boy's response to a nursery rhyme song.

We tried to get grocery shopping out of the way on Saturday. But someone had a really hard time making it through the list. There were shrieks and screams and cries and, well you all know what it's like. And as you can probably tell from the picture, we like to think of the shopping experience that day as the time we were visited by the rabid UPS driver.

Then came Sunday. As often happens on weekend mornings, Darrow and Ty went for a walk through the neighborhood and as often happens they ran into neighbors. I realize that my partner gives me a little morning time each weekend to get my coffee and sit down in front of the paper for just a short while. After seven years I think he has figured out that I am a better me if I am not thrust into the day without getting a leisurely start.

Ty is just beginning to experience the finer things in life, now that he is a little older. Darrow has been introducing him to cereal--not the dry pieces that you toss on his tray, but cereal in a bowl with milk and a spoon. He patiently helps the little guy scoop up the pieces and the milk and guides the spoon upright into his little mouth. He got the hang of it quickly and three bowls later, was still asking for more-"mo." I think he had some of Darrow's bagel also.

After some story-time, more outside time and building blocks it was time for the big boys breakfast-blueberry pancakes. Ty seemed to have forgotten about wolfing down all that cereal not an hour before. Sitting in his highchair he was waving and pointing, grunting-and when we insisted-using his word-"mo." He had three pancakes, orange juice and god knows what else. He was beginning to make me nauseous.

Ty seems to be growing closer to Rocky. He squeals when Rocky licks his hands and his cheek. When he comes across Rocky spread out on the floor, he waddles close, stoops and gives him a pat on his side. It seem like Rocky is the only name he will or can say yet--"ocky." He seems to notice all dogs now and typically will meet several each weekend. Darrow and Ty ran into a neighbor with her sweet German Shepherd. Last weekend it was another neighbor with her Labradoddle, Root Beer, who while still energetic and crazy-puppy-like, is very calm around Ty.

As the day went on, Ty's napping got a little out of whack. He ended up taking a long nap early which meant he was likely to have a slow but steady melt-down through the late afternoon. We forged ahead with going to the park and heading down to the waterfront. We spent time playing on the slide and swings in the kiddy section and then went to the lookout over the city to have lunch. It was a beautiful day. Ty dug the boats and the water and ran around the grass. He also noted the historic significance of the park as a fort during the Revolutionary War.

His nap schedule was beginning to show its affects on him. He was coming apart a little too early. We needed a few more things at the grocery store, but Darrow needed time to cook dinner. And I figured, well, if he is going to scream and be difficult what better place than the grocery store? How many screaming kids are being carted through the aisles every weekend? As we approached the produce section, Ty starting waving frantically at some ugly brown pears. As I approached the box he was pointing emphatically. I handed one to him and said, "this is a p-e-a-r." Then I grabbed another variety that was a greenish color and repeated, "pear." And as happens a lot lately, he said it back to me-"pa."

Ty began to tire quickly at dinner. He has begun to do this wonderful thing to let us know he has had enough of the day. He will reach for our hand and put it up to his face. It's some kind of comfort mechanism.

I took the little man upstairs to get him ready for bed and pulled out some new PJs. Now that it's September, even the mid-Atlantic is starting to get a little chilly at night. Before I called Darrow upstairs for Ty's final bow, I asked him if he wanted to read a book. He got this giddy look, this big grin and thrust his hands toward the bookshelf. I picked one of my favorites and his--How Does a Dinosaur Say Goodnight? As has become our practice, I prop up all of the pillows on the bed, he brings the book over to me and plops down in my lap....and the story begins. It is a great book because it teaches kids the right way to go to bed, it has a wonderful cadence to the rhyme, the artwork is fantastic, it has dinosaurs, and there are lots of places where I the reader, can act things out-like tossing teddy high in the air, crying on the bed, switching off the light, giving one last kiss and hug before goodnight. And of course I was brought to tears as Darrow and I put him into his crib. Sometimes our weekends end with a sigh and exhaustion, other times with bittersweet calm. No matter what happens to me in my life, I know I will always remember the times I have spent reading to him.

--J

Food Freak

TheFosters — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 18:15:00 GMT

Um, yes, those would be the remants of carrots and apples on the tray

Okay, so I have been a bit of a freak when it comes to our son and eating. But it's really not my fault. You see Ty came to us underweight and with few instructions, but for the charge that he was to ingest an exorbitant amount of calories everyday. Imagine it--two first-time daddies having a baby dropped at their doorstep; "And you expect us to get him to eat how much everyday--are you crazy?" From the first night we were plotting how to get as many bottles and containers of baby food into him as possible.

I remember being home with him for the first four weeks. I felt like I was in the I Love Lucy episode in the chocolate factory trying to box the candy as it flew by on the conveyor belt. Mix the formula, pour the bottles, warm the bottles, feed the baby. Play with him; put him down for his nap; not too long though 'cause he needs to eat; okay, get him up, then start all over again. No, no don't give him carrots and peas--not enough calories. Give him the bananas with mixed fruit--there is more than 26 calories in each ounce!

Every time he ate we recorded it in his book: what did he eat, how much, how many calories. Though he always seemed to have quite an appetite, there were days when it seemed like he just didn't want his daddy stuffing his face all day long. Each night we would total up the days gorging. It always worried me when I/he fell short of his daily caloric goal. It became my own little neurosis.

Well, we have come a long way from those days of autumn. After he climbed his way into the weight percentiles and his pediatrician was comfortable with his growth, we stopped logging his calories. I felt like we could finally begin to relax. I don't miss those days of angst about his eating.

So with that background you have the pretext for the little bit of angst about his current eating issues. As our baby has become a toddler it turns out he is mostly a meat and potatoes kind of guy. (And by the way waffles falls into that meat and potatoes category.) He's shown little interest in vegetables and almost no interest in fruit. We've had to "slip" him everything: veggies minced and cooked into meatballs; fruit blended into milk; sandwiches--well, you can always stuff something unexpected in between two slices of bread. Since he continues to grow, I am less concerned about this than his other Daddy. It seems that Darrow has now taken ownership of the eating neurosis.

It isn't like we haven't read up on all this kind of stuff. We've heard the rules: try a type of food at least fifteen times, or is it eighteen times, or just keep trying ad nauseam. I had long since given up on apples since Ty chews them up into small pieces and spits them back out all over himself. Then he takes his hand and scrapes the remaining bits off of his tongue and onto his lap. After the 32^nd time of trying to get him to eat bananas, I started shaking my head at Darrow. Maybe it doesn't make any sense that a kid would not like bananas, but you've gotta give it up man!

So how was it that last night while Ty was waiting for dinner in his highchair that Daddy Darrow was able to start feeding him some orange slices? Oranges slices--really? But that's a fruit! As the orange quickly disappeared, I decided to give him a slice of watermelon. Four or five slices later, I moved to blueberries and then apples. As we put dinner on the table he started motioning and grunting towards our plates. Darrow gave him a carrot slice, then another. He ate a few more, then after being given his own little pile of steamed carrots, he started two fisting them. Then it was on to the couscous, some chicken and more carrots. It was a startling moment. After all of the attempts to get him to eat his vegetables, and fruit for that matter, here he was eating everything and anything we put in front of him. I could feel the vitamins and minerals already beginning to course through his little body. It seemed like he would have eaten an artichoke had we given it to him. I wondered if it was an aberration--he was toying with us and would be back to meat and potatoes again tomorrow. If it is true, that after these last several months of eating regular food he has finally broadened his palate, then I guess the experts were right. There is hope for the picky eating children of the world and the desperate parents who will try anything to get junior to eat something other than rice and meat.

--J

The Sharing of Waffles

TheFosters — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 02:41:00 GMT

Back on October 17^th, when Juan got the call from a social services worker about Ty – when Juan then called me at work to get my take– when I said yes and committed to being a father for the duration, I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. Sure, I knew that my life was about to change but only in a general I’m-going-to-be-a-dad sort of way. I was willing, and as ready as I could be, to share my life with a child In fact, I expected that there was going to be lots of sharing, and I was ok with that.

Really. I was.

That is…until it was time for waffles.

Waffles are, for me, a delicacy. They are a treat to be appreciated and savored. I like to linger over them, taking the time to taste every bite – every drop of syrup and melted butter. I prefer to eat them at a cafe or small restaurant. The atmosphere is more waffle-friendly than big chains, though IHOP (avert your eyes, Juan) will do in a pinch. I can bring my iPod and a book or the newspaper and lose myself in the experience.

And when I say "waffle", I’m not talking about Eggos or Aunt Jemima. Both are good and will serve in a pinch, but they aren’t a replacement for the real deal. The only waffle that really matters is the kind made with a waffle iron. It should be round, take up an entire plate and be full of big, deep squares that hold gobs of butter and syrup.

Until last month, I hadn’t had a waffle since before Ty’s arrival. A couple of weeks ago, one early Saturday morning, I scooped up Ty and headed to a little spot a short drive from home. It was one of those perfect weekend mornings - sunny, cool and quiet. I was looking forward to a moment's rest from our mad mad Saturday mornings, and by the time I got to the cafe's door, my mouth was already watering. I could practically taste the sweet syrup and juicy strawberries.

Once at the counter, I ordered…

“I'd like the waffle with strawberries and maple syrup, please.”

The woman behind the counter, who didn’t look crazy a few seconds before, suddenly seemed more than a little off her rocker.

“And what will your little guy be having? Some of your waffle?”

Umm. Having? Waffle? MY waffle? Surely, she’s kidding. I do not share waffles.

“He’ll be having a blueberry muffin.”

I mean c'mon. A couple of days before The Waffle Trip, Ty shoved grits up his nose and then happily stuck his fingers in his mouth. His palate is not even close to waffle-ready.

I sat down and marveled at the lovely creation, almost afraid to put a knife to it. But, I was hungry and a had to move quickly, before Ty realized that his blueberry muffin and my waffle were not one and the same. Lately, he's been a lot more aware of specific foods and knows when he is not getting exactly the same thing as us. Of course, there are times when he simply doesn't want what we have, at least not totally. Grapes are a perfect example. Ty will suck on and chew a grape until all that's left is the skin, which he promptly lets slip out of his mouth and onto his shirt. I couldn't even stomach the idea that he might mash up a perfectly good piece of waffle and spit it out...or drop it on the floor...or worse yet, get it tangled in his hair. What a waste that would be.

So, intent on enjoying my experience, I strategically positioned the plate away from Ty and kept pieces of blueberry muffin flowing in his direction. I'm learning that redirection and distraction are key to managing a toddler. I'm also learning that toddler's cannot be ignored. As I start to dice up the second quarter of the waffle, I heard Ty grunt something like "mmm...mmmgggg...mmmm". I knew what that mean, but I tried to ignore it.

"More blueberry? Can you say more?

"mmm! mmmmgggggg!!"

"Juice? You want some juicy?"

I knew better. The little booger was after my waffle. My waffle. I tried the blueberry/juice distraction again, but only half-heartedly. I was starting to feel a little self-conscious (and creepy) as I sat hunched over the remaining syrup-soaked bits of waffle. And really, creepy and selfish is not a good look for me...or anyone for that matter.

So I gave in, maybe out of guilt and maybe for appearances sake.

w

I know I've got some learning and living to do when it comes to sharing. I'm thinking if I can get to the point of sharing my waffle, then the sky is the limit.

Chocolate cake is where I draw the line though. He'll have to get his own piece.

--D