I am that mom who sneaks hemp hearts into her kid’s food. When I tell everyone it’s burgers for dinner, they look at me warily and ask it they are of the quinoa cottage cheese variety or straight up beef (which are actually made of turkey, with pureed cauliflower snuck in there). I sneak pureed spinach into their homemade brownies, I’ve made fudge with chickpeas and agave nectar. Chicken nuggets? Chicken coated in pureed something then dragged in ground flax and baked (not fried, please!) Gwyneth Paltrow? She’s my girl. Seinfeld’s wife? Her cookbook is a constant on my counter, stressing me out constantly because I can do better by my kids I CAN ALWAYS DO BETTER.
I tell you this not because I’m bragging, trust me. I wish I didn’t google Monsanto at one in the morning. I wish I didn’t know how many grams of protein my kids should be getting a day. I wish I was oblivious to how Tilapia is farmed in China. I watch Momma June in shock and horror, not because Honey Boo Boo has coated herself in butter to slide on the kitchen floor, but rather in horror because they eat Twinkies rather liberally. Honestly, when I see my kids eat something like that, I have a smile on my face that you could crack with a toothpick while in my head I’m tallying the chemical warfare occurring in their little bodies. It’s an illness. I’m obsessed and I realize that I take the fun out of many childhood rights of passage by being so anal about food. (Heh, some poor schmuck is going to google anal and Gwyneth Paltrow and end up on my blog, sucker!)
I certainly wasn’t raised this way. I mean, I used to eat that sandwich meat that had noodles and processed cheese embedded in it on a daily basis. I used to take my (white) bread and massage and knead it until it was the size of a little cube then pop it into my mouth (every tried that with spelt bread? That shit just don’t knead!) I didn’t get a lot of candy, my dad was a dentist, but we did get these amazing 1970’s meals like tuna casserole with a bag of potato chips crumpled on top and another little ditty called hot dog casserole – potatoes, hot dogs, bake at 350 for an hour, bam, dinner is served. All that to say that I turned out okay. I can’t do math very well, but I am active, healthy and have an appreciation for art and alternative music.
So, I have decided to let loose a bit. Let my kids enjoy some “kid-friendly” meals now and then. It started last night. Grace picked a recipe off of her life hack feed on Instagram (ugh, another post will be dedicated to how I went from the Mom who didn’t let her kid to do anything on her iPod to the Mom who is just hoping for the best for her daughter in the quagmire of social media). She picked a recipe that required white Wonder Bread, processed cheese slices and margarine. Basically you melt of gob of margarine in a frying pan, put slices of cheese on the Wonder Bread, roll the bread (and it miraculously stays in place – what ingredient makes that happen?) and drop the tube into the margarine and let it fry away, turning occasionally. For dessert she removed the icing from twelve Orea cookies (which Edie ate when my back was turned – gaack!), then crushed the cookies into crumbs, and sprinkled ice cream with the crumbs and topped it with Cool Whip. Let me just add here that all of these items required a special trip to the grocery store. I didn’t have any of these things in the house. I went down aisles that were long, lost acquaintances to me. Oh hello jello in a cup, how are you? Oh hi oil by-product, what’s up? Oh hey there yogurt dipped granola bars, you had me going there for awhile that you were actually healthy! Good one hyuck hyuck!
Anyhoooo, last night, we all sat down to this very unsophisticated meal, with nary a flax seed in sight.
Omg you guys, it was so fucking good.
I can’t even begin to explain how good warm processed cheese, white bread and margarine taste together. I wanted to tell everyone at the table to shut the fuck up so I could revel in the sounds of the birds and the taste of saturated fat. They were all talking to me at once (as per the norm) and all I could hear were Charlie Brown teacher voices. Two decadent sandwich rolls later it was time to move on to dessert. I’ll just mention here that as of late I’ve been making homemade “ice cream” made of frozen bananas and coconut milk, so it’s been awhile since me and ice cream made the rounds together, let alone with Oreo cookies and Cool Whip on it. Grace showed me how to mix it all together reallyreallyreally fast with your spoon so it gets all mushy. Also very, very good.
So, Gwyneth will likely mean girl me and not invite me to her next party for my actions, but I am going to maybe, possibly, likely let the kiddos pick something once a week to make. I’ll be damned if I give up my chia seeds and weekend veggie pureeing orgies, but yeah, it’s fun to be a kid too.