She Eats What We Eat

This is my parenting philosophy in a nutshell:

Georgia will be a baby for a short time and that is the only time in one’s life where everything can and should be about you. So it is all about her. As Georgia gets older, she will be expected to do things she doesn’t want to do, participate in things she does not like and be around people who annoy her. My job is to expose her to everything pleasant now, so her association with the world is happy and good, which I hope will then imprint on her personality and she will view the world and the people in it as happy and good.

That is not to say that our house is covered in plastic toys or Georgia will never be given boundaries or discipline. Quite the opposite, actually, but right now day-to-day life revolves around her schedule and needs/preferences to the extent possible.

This idea and our resulting choices apparently are very controversial and I have been given quite a lot of guff about it from all sorts of people. Here is a little insight into our thinking and the process – not that I have to explain myself, because she’s my kid and it’s my choice.

Since this blog is more or less about food, I will focus on our choice not to take Georgia to restaurants until she is old enough to behave nicely and not make the experience unpleasant for us and other innocent diners who are out for a nice meal.

When she was three months old, we declined to drag Georgia along to a fancy restaurant, garnering a very huffy “Well! THAT CHILD is three months old! She should be able to go to a restaurant!” As anyone who knows me, them’s fightin’ words and I will not be bullied into doing anything – especially something that violates what I think is right.

First of all, she hated her infant car seat (you know the kind that pops out of the car base and you carry around like an Easter basket) and screamed like a banshee for as long as she was strapped in it. So we didn’t go on long outings. Second of all, she did not want to go to a fancy restaurant. She wanted to sleep in her bed, be held and hear stories and music. The end. Three-month-old babies don’t have a wide variety of interests.

When Georgia began eating food and expressed interest in what we ate – around eight months or so – we took her to a family-friendly, local restaurant during off hours. We wanted the place to be largely empty in case she pitched a fit . We ordered upon sitting down so the process would be quick and we were poised to get to-go boxes if things went awry. I am happy to report, Georgia had a marvelous time, ate fish and some vegetables and we had about 30 minutes before her attention span waned and she was ready to go. Given her age, 30 minutes was an eternity and we were able to finish our meals and head home for naptime without incident.

Another choice I made was to totally ignore American eating guidelines of introducing a new food every three days in case the kid gets a rash. Those rashes rarely harm the child or even feel uncomfortable. While it may take a little research and thought to try to pinpoint the offending food and eliminate it for a time, it isn’t that big of a deal. There is a small window to offer new foods before the kid gets persnickety – not the technical term, but definitely a developmental stage. I want Georgia to eat as many different things as possible and be exposed to many tastes and textures, so when she emerges from that persnickety stage, she will have a greater chance of eating a variety of foods. At least that is what the research says.

Georgia has been eating what we eat for months now. It is healthier for us, because I cut out salt and include lots of vegetables, something that wasn’t always the case when feeding just myself.

At 10-months old, we have ventured out more with Georgia. The offending car seat is too small and a thing of the past and Georgia can sit comfortably in those little restaurant high chairs.

Recently we went out of town for a little break and Georgia was so easy, because she was so happy. She approached everyone she encountered with a wave and a smile, making friends in a city that is not known for its friendliness. Because she eats what we eat, feeding her was a breeze.

We had scones and fresh fruit for breakfast. Georgia ate my Cornish hen and roasted root vegetables by the fistful for supper. We went to a French restaurant, where she ate salmon, vegetables and escargot. She shoveled in the little bits of garlicy snail, wiggled happily in her seat and said “mmmm! Mmmm!” She drank water out of a wine glass with my help. It was brilliant. At one point, our waiter came over and proclaimed us “the coolest parents I have ever met,” partly because our little daughter was so delightful and friendly to everyone and partly because we declined the kid menu and fed her off our plates. He said there are so many children who come in and eat the most atrocious things and he could not believe the variety of things that a child of Georgia’s age happily ate.

I don’t make these choices for anyone but Georgia, but it was gratifying to have someone appreciate and positively comment on Georgia’s disposition and her adventurous eating habits.

It is too soon to declare victory on my choices. It is impossible to tell whether this behavior is all Georgia or if it stems from our parenting choices, but I like to think that it is a partnership and we have helped her become this happy, adventurous little person with pizzazz.