When Complaining is Always on the Menu

Every weekend, there is one thing Belle loathes doing but we do it anyway. It typically happens early in the morning, before the kids wake up. I offer to help in any way possible, try to make it quick and easy, but I admit I can never do it to completion. 

I am talking about, of course, compiling our weekly grocery list. 

"No lettuce, please." - Any of my kids

"Have I told you how much I hate this?" she'll ask, recipe books and magazines spread out in front of her, coffee in hand. 

"I'm sorry, love," I'll say, giving her a squeeze as I head outside to run. "So, what's for dinner tonight?"

OK, I do know better than to ask that question. Because if I just wait a little bit, until the kids wake up, they'll ask. And unless the answer is "pizza," "chicken nuggets" or "carryout," there are disappointed faces.

It wasn't always this way. We did the homemade purees when our kids were babies, exposed them to a lot of foods and thankfully didn't find any allergies. They would eat avocado chunks or asparagus spears or tomato wedges and we'd think, "This food thing isn't so difficult." 

But then, around 3 years old, their palettes would start shrinking and planning meals became a challenge. This change clashed with our two rules for dinner:

1. We encourage you to try whatever is on your plate

2. There is always something on your plate that you like

Our son, the middle child, was the worst rule-breaker for about a year. Not only would the main course barely hit his lips before he put it back on his plate, but he would loudly announce, "I don't like it" or "Ew, gross," thereby heavily influencing the opinion of his younger sister. Now, he'll quietly let the main course barely hit his lips and then announce, with as much earnestness as is humanly possible to muster, "I tried it and I did not like it." He also occasionally will take his first bite and hold his thumb parallel to the ground before turning it up or down, like Commodus in Gladiator.

It's not like we're making anything crazy for dinner, either. (See Rule No. 2.) But, heaven forbid something green even grazes against a piece of pasta or else cries of "I want something else" immediately ring out. 

Thus, finding a recipe that all three kids like is our Holy Grail, and said recipe is placed in a protective case, like a valuable baseball card, with Belle's coveted check-plus next to it. Recent inductees into the club include fried matzah during Passover and, surprisingly, my mother-in-law's salmon loaf, which she has made twice while she and my father-in-law stay with us as their house is being renovated. (But that's still a story for another day.)

Then, there's the cheeseburger conundrum. We don't keep strict kosher in our house but we use separate dishes for meat and dairy, and I do not eat milk and meat together. Our kids love the Jewish traditions and customs we observe. But, in the process of letting them try different foods, they discovered they also love cheeseburgers. They order them when we go out for dinner and, recently, I've started making them if I'm grilling. 

I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, if I should explain the meaning of keeping kosher, if instead of this being a phase their children and their children's children also will eat cheeseburgers, thereby weakening a core tenant of being Jewish that has sustained us as a people for thousands of years. But then I put the cheeseburgers on a paper or rubberized kids' plate and enjoy a no-complaint dinner for a change.

Belle and I both realize the eating eventually will get better and, before we know it, we'll be spending the equivalent of a monthly mortgage payment at Costco to keep everyone fed. Until then, the search for check-plus recipes continues, the two dinner rules will remain in place and we'll trudge forward, one weekly grocery list at a time. 

And, maybe one day, Belle and I will have time on the weekend mornings to do something a little more fun and exciting. Like sleep in.