Add this to the files of “Learning and Growing Alongside Your Child.”
As a parent of a teenager, there’s an anticipation and joy that arises when they emerge from their caves.
My 15-year-old came out of his room one recent Saturday. I’m not sure what time he woke up but it was well past noon when he emerged. He said he’d been up “for a while” and had been working on some homework.
Since it was past lunchtime, I offered to make him something. Silently, he reached for a stale baguette that was sitting on the counter – probably two or three days old – and started chewing on it.
No, more like gnawing on it. It made that cracking sound as he broke pieces off with his teeth.
I offered him a fresher baguette but he just grinned and kept gnawing away.
A younger version of myself would have skulked away. Feeling like a failure as a parent, as a mother, because my child was choosing stale bread. Because I even had stale bread in the house.
Instead, I just laughed and suggested he check the fridge for something that might be a little more fresh.
He responded to my suggestion by opening the refrigerator: “Oh, cool! Leftover rice!”
Letting go of control
Now, this is a boy who from day one, I struggled with feeding.
He had a lazy suck as a newborn and we’d have to wake him up to finish feeding.
He was an incredibly picky eater as we started introducing solid foods.
We later came to learn that he is what’s called “a super-taster“. A person born with an abundance of taste buds so that everything tastea more powerful, the flavors amplified. I wish I had known this when I was stressing about getting him to eat as a baby and toddler.
He is here to explore the world through taste as the primary sense. He tells me now that it’s a gift and a curse.
But I digress.
The point is this now 15-year-old, on a sunny Saturday, out of all the food in the house, decides to go from stale bread to leftover takeout rice as his food choice.
“I’m making an omelet for myself. Can I make you one to go with your rice?” I ask. “Or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Just for, you know, some protein?”
Okay, I wasn’t ready to fully release control.
Don’t forget the carrots
“Oooo… peanut butter! I think we have crackers in the pantry.” he replies as he walks towards the pantry door. “YES!”
Rice and peanut butter on crackers.
He came back from the pantry with a mischievous grin. “This is going to be delicious!”
“How about a carrot. You know… some vegetables to balance your meal.”
“Ok, mom. Would you like a carrot too?”
As he handed me the carrot he had peeled for me, he smiled wide. He was really happy about the meal he had thrown together for himself. “This is what I would eat if you weren’t home.”
And the truth is, it’s pretty close to the meal I would eat if no one was home too.
Simple and easy to make and clean-up.
He added some pickled ginger to his plate too. I’m not sure if that was for color or flavor but I kept my mouth shut. Ginger’s good for you.
Growing with your child
This interaction with my son reminded me of a truth I share with my clients but don’t always remember to embody myself: Parenting is as much about growing with your child as it is about helping your child to grow.
I think back to that first-time mom, 15 years ago, who was drowning in insecurity, anxiety, and comparisonitis. Who’d cry herself to sleep sometimes, worried about the judgment she’d receive from other moms and his care providers when they saw how picky he was.
Our pediatrician in the US prescribed an infant multivitamin for him and acupuncture and meditation for me. Our family practice doc in France told us to “just make him eat more vegatables” as if I could control him.
It was after that conversation with her that a started googling “how to get kids to eat more vegetables” and, in the pages and pages of articles and cookbooks listed, kept scrolling and scanning titles until I came upon an article about supertasters.
I shoulded on and bullied myself mercilessly.
Celebrating your child and your inner child
If I had taken a picture of the smile on his face as he held his plate of peanut butter and cracker sandwiches, leftover rice with a little bit of pickled ginger, and carrot sticks, I would send it back in time to that younger version of myself.
I’d write her a loving message and give her a giant hug. I’d show her what an incredibly kind, smart, funny, creative teenager he is. I’d let her know that he, and I, are okay.
He’s making his own decisions. He is healthy and, most importantly, he is happy. He has good friends, a deep sense of who he is right now, a passion for learning, and, in spite of (because of?) my stress over how to parent a supertaster, is now quite adventurous with his diet. He eats almost everything now.
I even wrote a song for him about giving him the space to grow, to trust himself.
So, if he’s choosing to feed himself peanut butter crackers, rice, pickled ginger, and carrot sticks, and that makes him happy, then the Marisa of the past gets to release her fear and worry.
And, instead, she can replace them with the knowledge that she did a great job. She supported him in learning the inner wisdom and trust to make his own food choices. To listen to his body and eat what he wants when he wants.
It’s a lesson that she and I are still working to learn.
He, along with his younger brother, are mirrors who reflects for me, each and every day, all of the ways that I get to celebrate myself as a parent. Yes, I fuck up a lot. But, I also succeed a lot. As my husband, the astronomer, likes to say: “it’s a mathematical certainty that half of my days will be below average.”
I get to choose which story I want to tell, want to believe about myself and about him.
I no longer want to tell the self-deprecating, self-defeating, self-critical story of my journey down Should Road as I watched him pile that incredibly monotone food onto his plate. Instead, I chose to see his smile, to listen to his words, and trust him.
Being a parent is a fucking hard job because, above all else, it shines a light on the triggers, the traumas, and the unhealed wounds that we carry. But, being a parent is also an incredible opportunity to learn and grow ourselves as we watch our children learn and grow into themselves.
You are doing an amazing job, momma! Believe in yourself as much as others believe in you!
In gratitude and love,
