Food

Re-entering the ring: Stella the Spella!

Posted on by amberhj

Just a few small updates for now.

Stella can spell her name and delights in doing so. I’m extremely proud of her, as you can imagine. I suspect she’ll start spelling other words soon. She’s making a habit of quickly rattling off the letters in the words she sees. I have to say that it’s encouraging, vision-wise, to hear her say the letters one after the other, so smoothly and accurately. Maybe I’m over-thinking it, but I’ll take it. Bam!

She’s turning into my little kitchen helper. Tonight she had cheese-sprinkling and cauliflower-tossing duties. She kept moving her stool from one station to the other, requesting to check on the dish in the oven, and nibbling leftover chopped onion, shredded cheese and avocado–oh and a slice of lemon. She’s proud of herself and the results, more invested in the meal, and I have less to clean up. Bingo!

Stella is a gymnast now. We go once a week to a nearby gymnastics academy, and many of the exercises we do there are identical to ones recommended by our vision therapist (like animal walks, donkey kicks, etc.). Of course it doesn’t feel like therapy. It’s just fun! And Stella is quite fearless and adept! She can walk the entire length of the balance beam by herself with her arms straight out, do somersaults down ramps, hop like a bunny down the bouncy track, launch herself into the foam pit, and pull her feet up under the bar when hanging from it. She’s so strong. Her enthusiasm overflows.

She’s owning her current at-home vision therapy, which includes use of flippers for near work (hand-eye coordination stuff) and red and green overlays side by side on the TV with red/green glasses (five minutes each way). Stella breezes through these. We work in vestibular activities here and there, too. My current goal is to purchase a toddler-sized pair of the yoked prism goggles. Having access to them only once a week is creating too much stress and pressure. Getting our own pair is the solution to the currently upsetting and unhealthy situation. Despite my efforts to stay neutral  during goggle time, I’m sure she senses my expectation and feels pressured–it’s time to take that away. It’s time to be reasonable and not expect her to tolerate them for a large chunk of time once a week and allow ourselves to break it down into more comfortable, age-appropriate pieces.

Tomorrow we return to vision therapy, in a new afternoon time slot after an illness-induced hiatus. I’m bringing a document I’ve typed up that outlines suggestions for making vision therapy more beneficial and less stressful for Stella, including the need to purchase our own pair of goggles. I know Stella best, after all. And I want to make sure I’ve done everything I can to make these sessions work for her, instead of producing such angst (for both of us). The new non-morning time should help, but there are more creative, thoughtful strategies we can implement, or at least try. I’ll share the ones that work, along with overdue descriptions of how creative solutions have helped make home-based exercises successful. You’d laugh if you peeked in our window and saw the silly things I do in the name of vision therapy. You’d be amazed if you could see how far Stella has come with specific abilities, how resilient she is, and how wonderfully willing she usually is when it comes time to play her “eye games.” And you’d be shocked if you could witness how such small adjustments can make all the difference!

There’s always hope if you ask me. We may get down after a rough appointment, but we never give up.

 

 

Proud of my veggie rebel

Posted on by amberhj

One of the many reasons to shop at PCC (Natural Markets), besides tons of carefully selected fresh, local organic produce? Their Kid Fruit Program, described on their website as “Free fruit for kids! Kids ages 12 and under can choose a free serving of a fruit or vegetable to eat while their parents shop. Kids are occupied with eating a delicious snack and parents feel good about establishing healthy eating habits.” Brilliant, I know.

Earlier this week, Stella and I ventured to PCC for what has become a weekly ritual: Slightly-less-angst-ridden-than-before grocery shopping followed by a walk to the “chocolate store” (Theo Chocolate‘s showroom and factory, just down the block and around the corner from PCC in Fremont, where free chocolate samples are abundant and the atmosphere is welcoming) then a walk back to our car along a portion of the Burke Gilman Trail that abuts the canal. After some Hazelnut Crunch and Coconut Curry milk chocolate bites, we wander and wave to friendly boat captains, watch the boats’ wakes ripple out and tumble and splash against the rocks at our feet, and occasionally spot fish taking breaks in the nooks and crannies along the edge. Also, and this is less quaint, I have to physically restrain Stella from launching herself into the water and divert tantrums by pointing to birds.

During this last trip, we meandered through PCC’s produce section as usual, in terribly inefficient fashion because neither my list nor my head are remotely organized. Well, Stella’s mental/verbal tractor beam locked in on the carrots. So I handed one of the massive, bright, slightly dirty spears to her, expecting her to wave it around like a wand or imitate a bunny rabbit as she’s known to do. I figured I’d slice it up and saute it for her later. But no. She proceeded to vigorously munch on that carrot throughout our time in the store (which meant she also sat contentedly in the seat of the shopping cart–unheard of! Thank you, brilliant PCC!), and all the way to the chocolate factory. On our way out, a cashier remarked, referring to the Kid Fruit program, “How cool to see a kid pick a vegetable instead of a fruit!” Stella finished at least half of the entire large carrot, Bugs-Bunny style, and her chin took on an orange hue. I so wish I’d captured that moment on film–my little twenty-three-month-old walking down the street in her chic blue glasses, with tiny pig tails in her hair and a giant carrot in hand.

Mind you, this  is the girl who, after a day of fun at a birthday party a couple of months ago, during which she only ate crackers, cookies, and cake, came home and demanded broccoli. I quickly steamed some and she devoured an entire bowl of the green stuff. This is also the girl who, upon spying a fresh white bag or box from Trophy Cupcakes in the grip of a passerby, recognizes the logo and goes absolutely bonkers, breathlessly demanding “birthday cupcakes!” Her “intake” fluctuates, like most toddlers, but this girl loves to eat.

Stella’s feeding issues are so far behind us, I can barely see them in my proverbial rear-view mirror. But, when I saw her eating that carrot, I was lifted up. I remembered and I realized. We are such a long way from hypoallergenic formula through an NG tube. So close to two years old. Beyond lucky.

All atwitter about bread, cheese, and other foods toddlers sometimes forget to reject

Posted on by amberhj

I turned her post-nap snack into a muffin tin meal as she'd refused to eat lunch. She's been sick, so I stacked the deck with things I thought she'd eat. She ate the pineapple, and quite a few cheesy pita pieces! I even had to reload. Despite adding a ton of honey to the plain yogurt, it was a no-go. Duh.

Stella’s best buddy is a sweetie-pie of a kid who sits peacefully in his high chair (or even a shopping cart) for long stretches. He is breastfed. He happily and without urging will eat anything that his very dedicated and health- and eco-conscious mom puts in front of him. He’ll use a toothpick to precisely nab chunks of plain, steamed broccoli or carrot and dip it into his little bowl of 100% healthy and amazing Almond Ginger Drizzle dipping sauce, and go back for more. Then he’ll eat plain yogurt as a side dish, and move on to polish off  the leftover avocado from lunch, and a few pieces of chicken and suddenly, he’s chowing down on brown rice.  He also wakes up several times a night. His mom is lucky to get one three-hour stretch of sleep each night.

Stella has about a five-minute highchair or shopping cart seating limit, won’t even touch a food that’s been offered to her previously the same day (even if she loved it), gets impatient with a fork (nevermind a toothpick) so will quickly resort to eating mac and cheese by the fistful, and regards plain yogurt as a form of shiver-inducing torture. She also (92% of the time) sleeps through the night. She and her bud are both happy and healthy. They both have areas that are challenging. I try not to compare them, but relish the sometimes hilarious differences. It’s hard not to smile in amazement at their wildly different temperaments, which somehow go together perfectly. Just like Almond Ginger Drizzle and broccoli.

Because I do have to put in a bit of an extra effort to provide Stella with an adequate, healthy-ish diet, and more so because I absolutely love to waste time, I actually have a second Twitter account. I use the ambitiously named Toddler Recipes Twitter front for the purpose of sharing any possibly helpful toddler feeding “tips.” It’s just that whenever I find a new snack or meal for Stella, or ways to make existing snacks and meals healthier or somehow better, I want to share such revelations. Instead of just dancing alone in my kitchen.

Some of my suggestions, all of which are based on my own feeding successes with one storied little eater, are really odd. Like, a couple times a week, I bake a sweet potato while Stella naps (poke holes in it with a fork, pop it in a 425-degree oven on a baking sheet lined with foil for about an hour). After she’s had some time to fully wake up and play, I peel it and pop it in the food processor and start handing her spoonfuls. It’s still warm. It’s incredibly sweet. And because of the way all of this unfolds, it’s an event! She asks for more, more, more. On Saturday, she ate most of an entire medium-sized sweet potato (or is it a yam?) and I was so pathetically happy I almost burst, but I didn’t, because I’d made a big enough mess already. I’d compare the pride and thrill I felt to that of getting a large raise. I wish I were kidding. I can now fill a ramekin with the puree and put it on her little table and she’ll scoop away, eating most of it with glee. The point? Toddlers are weird. Don’t be afraid to try random outside-the-highchair ideas. Whatever works, man. Whatever works.

Admittedly, many tips are really obvious but may be easy to overlook when you’re busy trying not to go insane. Cut up a 100% whole wheat pita pocket into quarters, pop a piece of cheddar into each (I often splurge on raw cheddar), toast for a few minutes, and voila! “Cheesy pitas’ that can be cut up into little, appealing bite-sized shapes, like pterodactyl, or the always-popular triangle. Use mozzarella and tomato sauce to transform grilled cheese into a worthy foe for pizza. If you’re feeling ballsy, throw some veggie in there! No, not all my ideas involve bread and cheese. Though I do think that good quality whole wheat bread and decent cheese can take a picky-ish kid far. Really, some of my tweets involve… (wait for it)… carrots! On rare occasions, spinach! Once in a while, I’ll just remind people to not force things, simply to “offer.” And definitely don’t obsess. Because I need to re-tell myself these very things from time to time.

Of course, she went straight for the turkey bacon. It's uncured, organic, yadda yadda. Just don't compare it to real bacon and it's delicious.

I have to retract at least part of my previous endorsement for Super Baby Food. It always felt like a bit too much work to be sustainable… too much thinking. The best ideas are fun, and don’t require spreadsheets for tracking and planning purposes. “Let’s chart Stella’s vitamin A intake, shall we?” UGH. Anyway, case in point: A long time ago, I stumbled across the idea of “muffin tin meals” on a friend’s wonderful craft-centric blog: Well I’ll Be a Monkey’s Mama. Now that Stella is old enough to not immediately grab any nearby container and dump its contents on the floor (usually), I decided to give it a try. I needed to do something, because we’re in the midst of a very rough eating stretch, due to nagging illness. During our recent ER visit, I learned that Stella lost a pound during her first cold in April.The 20-month-old girl whose 18-month-sized jeans are so baggy, I have to round up a search party to find her butt for diaper changes. Well, she’s a week into her second nasty affliction this month and that means that after weeks of weight loss, she’s still eating notably less than usual. Anyway, I think the muffin tin magic did help. At the very least, I felt better knowing I’d made a little bit of an effort without pressuring Stella to eat in any way. She didn’t polish it all off (no surprise there), but she actually sat down at her little table to eat, after noticing it and announcing her intention to “Sit DOWN!” I’m chalking it up as little victory–one of the many that I am too pumped about not to share on Twitter or with anyone who will listen.

In closing, a confession. Sometimes, I purposefully don’t put in too much effort when it comes to Stella’s meals. Especially with our feeding history, it’s incredibly deflating to spend significant energy and time on planning and cooking, only to have Stella eat zero point zero percent of what I’ve lovingly prepared. I pick my battles. I invest time where I think it will pay off. And once in a while, I take Stella out for ice cream and just enjoy life and eating without worrying or trying at all. Sometimes, that’s the very best recipe.

Confident mom interview #2: Jennifer of Sweet Futility

Posted on by amberhj

I’d like to introduce you to my cousin Jennifer. There are a few things you should know about her. First off, she’s really, really smart. Or as they say in Massachusetts, where she lives and where I’m from, “wicked smaht.” Like, she could’ve gone to Harvard. But didn’t choose to. Which brings me to my next point: She doesn’t care about fancy, superficial bullshit that doesn’t matter in the end. She wanted to stay home with her daughters, four-year-old Marley and 14-month-old Rudy, and made sacrifices to do it.

Jennifer, sharing a moment with Marley and Rudy

Jennifer, sharing a moment with Marley and Rudy

In addition, Jennifer faces challenges that many moms don’t. Her daughters have a health condition that, while not life-threatening, requires extra care and calm on her part every single day. Oh, Jennifer’s mom also has severe health issues requiring not only lots of extra care and calm, but (as you’ll learn below) life-saving measures from as far back as when Jennifer and her sisters were in elementary school. Maybe that help explains Jen’s toughness. In any case, Jen handles motherhood and life in general with grace and a sense of balance and realness that I truly admire.

She very rarely, if ever, complains about anything–okay, unless hard cider is involved. She can laugh just about anything off. To quote Tim Gunn (someone her daughter Marley can do a pretty darn good imitation of without even trying), she makes it work.

Life and Times of Stella: Your blog is a very honest and uplifting take on motherhood. How did you come up with the name “Sweet Futility“?

Sweet Futility:  First of all, it’s weird that anyone who wants to check out my blog won’t be able to since I made it private about a month ago.  Someone I didn’t know left a comment that may have been innocent, but I felt like protecting my kids just in case it wasn’t.  Maybe eventually I’ll open it up again.  In the meantime, anyone who’s curious can leave their email in your comments section and I’ll send along an invite?  I guess? (Life and Times of Stella notes: Or readers can just email me, and I’ll relay the info to Jen at Sweet Futility.)

A friend actually uttered the phrase “sweet, sweet futility,” during one of Marley’s tantrums.  He was witnessing her wrath for the first time, and foolishly trying to dismantle her craziness.  I told him it was futile, and then he called it sweet, and right away I thought that it was a fairly accurate description of parenting.  Because really, as parents we’re in charge of some things, but ultimately, our kids are going to be who they’re going to be.  And it would be wrong to take that individuality away from them.  Which is what I tell myself when my daughter Marley asks for things like POM-POMS and swoons over anything pink and sparkly.

Life and Times of Stella: On your newly exclusive blog, you revealed that Rudy and Marley have a condition called x-linked hypophosphatemic rickets. How does it impact everyday life for you and them?

Sweet Futility: This form of rickets affects their bone development, and my understanding is that without treatment, their little bones will bow as they grow and cause them a lot of stress and pain.  The condition can affect their stature, which may be why my girls are in the first or second percentile for height.  Daily, I have to make sure that they’re taking phosphorus and vitamin D supplements; frequently, I take them for blood work and check-ups with their pediatric endrocrinologist; annually, they have x-rays and ultrasounds to monitor their growth.

Because my husband has this condition, and because it’s x-linked, we knew that any girls we had would have rickets.  I think that helped me to take it in stride.  It wasn’t a surprise or anything. And while all the medical appointments are time-consuming and therefore, often irritating, I know that this isn’t anything life-threatening.  I mean, I worry that like their father, they’ll have terrible knees and have to deal with pain and maybe not even have the option of going for a run if they want, but I know that in the grand scheme of things, my kids are healthy, and I’m lucky.

Life and Times of Stella: Rudy and Marley share a room. What was behind that decision and how is it going?

Sweet Futility:  After Rudy was born and I asked the doctor and nurses to confirm that she was a girl, I was crying and murmuring, “I’m so happy that Marley has a sister.”  I have two sisters, so of course that’s all I know, but I just think they’ll have each other’s backs, growing up and as adults, in a way that a brother and a sister can’t.  (I know that’s a valuable relationship, too, of course.  I’m just saying.)

I want for Marley and Rudy to be silly little buddies, and I think that a shared room can nurture that, at least while they’re young.  I also think a shared room is a way to teach things like sharing and cooperation and appreciation in both subtle and dramatic ways.  Already, Todd and I hear them in the morning talking to each other, and it’s hilarious.  I mean, Rudy’s pretty much saying, “Be-beh” [baby], and “Nuh-Nuh” [pacifier], but Marley’s got this full-on monologue going, and they’re laughing, and it’s great.

I shared a room with my younger sister my whole life.  The first time I had a bedroom to myself, I was a junior in college.  (That was a little too long to wait, for the record.)  But it helped me to fully appreciate my own space, and I certainly wasn’t spoiled in that way, and I don’t want my kids to be either.  Plus, now we use Rudy’s old nursery as a family office, where most of the kids’ books and art supplies are.  At least a couple of times a week, Todd’s up there working at an adult-sized desk, and Marley’s at her little table, doing her preschool homework or concocting imaginary dinner parties and making elaborate invitations for them.

Life and Times of Stella:  In addition to taking care of your daughters full time, you help take care of your mom. Ever get overwhelmed? How do you cope?

Sweet Futility: Hoo boy.  My mom has early on-set Alzheimer’s, and she’s a type one diabetic, which is a pretty terrible combination.  Because she and my father are separated and he’s in Florida literally doing things like basking by the pool or ocean and enjoying week-long cruises with his lady friend, my sisters and I have taken on the responsibility of caring for her.  My older sister especially, because my mom lives with her.

Because I’m a stay-at-home mom, I’m responsible for bringing my mom to daycare when my sister’s at work, and I handle all of the doctors’ appointments.  It’s tedious, and depressing, but it’s also nothing new to my sisters or me.  My mom didn’t do a great job of taking care of herself and managing her diabetes when we were growing up.  We’ve brought her out of hypoglycemic shock more times than we can count, since we were really young.  It’s the kind of thing that you think is normal when you’re young, and then, when you’re in therapy you learn that it’s not right to be constantly saving your mother’s life when you’re in elementary school.

My sisters and I are a great team, and sometimes we’re bitter and angry, but we support each other and we can laugh about the ridiculousness of our situation, too.  Mostly, we just get the job done and keep the focus on our kids.  And we take care of ourselves and each other because we know what can happen when moms don’t.  Ugh.  Next question.

Life and Times of Stella: How and when did you decide to be a “stay-at-home mom” and leave your teaching job?

Sweet Futility: My last full-year teaching, I was given three classes of eighth graders.  It was not hard to walk away.  Seriously.  The people who teach middle school kids because they “just love that age” are saints.

When I started teaching high school English, I had sweet classes like creative writing and AP English Language and Composition.  I loved teaching those kids.  They were mostly nerds and overachievers like me, and they loved reading and writing.  I got into the profession because of my love of grammar, not because I watched Dangerous Minds and wanted to teach inner city kids poetry.  This makes me sound like an elitist jerk, so I should mention that a part of me did absorb Dangerous Minds when I was becoming certified to teach, and I will always love Stand and Deliver.  Defy the odds!  Like in Rudy!

When I was pregnant with Marley, my husband and I were both full-time teachers.  And teaching is a full-time job.  Especially for English teachers.  The day is over at 2 p.m., sure.  But then you’re not really out of the building until almost four, and you’ve got this gigantic pile of mostly mediocre essays to read and grade, and that’s at least three hours of work, and so we knew that if we both worked, we wouldn’t get to hang out with our kids at all.  And I really, really wanted to be at home with them while they’re little and funny.  So we have been stretching our dollars ever since, and I still coach, teach a night course twice a year, and fit in private tutoring whenever I can to keep us afloat.

Life and Times of Stella: What is a typical dinnertime in your home like? What’s on the menu in terms of food, conversation, and antics?

Sweet Futility: Dinnertime is not where I want it to be right now.  Unless I’m really on my game, it’s suddenly five o’clock and I’m just getting something going for Todd and me (and Marley) while I’m microwaving small plates for Rudy (and Marley).  We try to overlap our eating so that we’re all sitting together for at least five or ten minutes, but that doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.

And I know there are all these people who say, “I’m not making six different meals,” and “If my kids are hungry, they’ll eat it, and if not, they can eat again at breakfast,” and I certainly agree with that in theory.  But Marley and Rudy are both wee kids, and every time we see their pediatrician, she’s on me to be sure that they’re eating healthy and gaining weight.  So right now I’m balancing filling their stomachs the best I can with what I know they like, and making sure they at least try whatever Todd and I are having, too.  I’m hoping that in about a year, we’ll really and truly be sitting together and eating the same things.

That doesn’t really answer your questions.  So I’ll tell you that the other night we had chicken thighs braised in white wine, stock, and some dijon mustard, toasted basmati rice with shallots, cumin, and coriander, and some green beans.  And tonight, we’re going to drown ourselves in french fries and bacon cheeseburgers at Five Guys, and I’ve been thinking about it ALL DAY!  We eat healthy food, especially fruits and vegetables, as often as possible, and I don’t really buy junk food for snacks. But I use lots of butter and salt when I cook.

One of my absolute favorite cooks is Nigella Lawson.  And I was once watching this documentary about her, and she said how it really affected her when her mother got cancer and said something like, “Well, now I guess I’ll finally eat what I want without worrying about my weight.”  And clearly it’s affected me, too.  Why deny yourself?  I still don’t think I’m answering your questions the right way.  I have a lot to say about food, I guess.

Life and Times of Stella: What do you find most challenging about motherhood?

Sweet Futility: I think it’s hard to be the kind of role model I want to be.  I want to show Marley how to maintain a sense of calm when she’s mid-tantrum, but sometimes I still blow my top.  I want to exhibit things like kindness and compassion, but that can be difficult depending on who I’m dealing with. (Ahem.)  And I want to be assertive and stand up for myself, but I also really hate confrontation.  So it’s probably the same stuff a lot of moms feel: I’m setting some impossible standards for myself and just doing the best I can to meet them as often as possible.

Life and Times of Stella: Tell us one thing about each of your daughters that you admire.

Sweet Futility: I love Marley’s spunk.  Even though it can drive me bananas, her feistiness is something that I really admire.  I don’t see her ever having trouble standing up for herself.  And at the same time, she’s such a little lady.  She will know more about how to properly apply eyeliner at age fifteen than I know now.  I don’t even wear it, for crying out loud.  She will be truly embarrassed by my ensembles in the next year or so unless I stay on top of things.

Rudy is a model of living in the moment.  She is slow and deliberate and sweet.  Sometimes I call my sisters with her, and they’ll answer, “Hello?”  And then Rudy will say, “Hiiiii.”  And then Heather or Danielle will realize who it is and take in this sort of pleased and contented breath and then say, “Hi!” and then Rudy replies, “Hi.  Hiiiii.  Hi!”  And these greetings can go on for about three or four minutes.  I feel like when I’m holding Rudy and she’s smiling and taking things in, my blood pressure goes down.

Life and Times of Stella: What is your biggest wish for Marley and Rudy?

Sweet Futility: I want most of all for Marley and Rudy to be truly, deep down, happy with who they are and what they’re achieving, throughout their lives.  I want them to laugh as often as possible.

Life and Times of Stella: In closing, can you recall a proud mothering moment, when it was clear that something you’d done as a mom was definitely not futile?

Sweet Futility:  That’s a tough one.  I think it’s still too early for me to answer this as far as Rudy goes, but I’ve got a few examples of Marley making my heart swell.  Or melt. Depending.

The first is something I didn’t get to witness.  When my sister Danielle was watching Marley last year while the Boston Marathon was on TV, Danielle pointed out how fast the female runners were going.  And Marley said, “Yeah.  Girls do sports.  My mommy does lots of sports.”

Last week, when Marley and Rudy and I were wheeling our red carriage toward the registers at Target, I was trying to get Rudy to say, “Buh-bye.”  So I was all, “Bye!  Bye, Target!”  And Marley, skipping alongside the carriage, said, “Bye, Target!  I love you!”

And every time I drop Marley off at preschool, she has to give me a hug and a kiss and squeeze my nose, and then she does the same thing to her little sister.  It’s adorable, I promise.

Let them eat sugar

Posted on by amberhj

I took newly 17-month-old Stella out for ice cream last week. Just me and her. There was no special occasion other than “mama needs ice cream NOW.”  We headed out on foot at around 7pm to sneak in our treat before her 7:30 bath (which, of course, didn’t happen until 7:45). On the “walk” home, she stopped between wind sprints to request “more more more.” I happily served her bites of my mouthwatering masterpiece: perfectly salted caramel and rich chocolate Molly Moon’s ice cream in a waffle cone made two minutes before we ate it. I didn’t even mind sharing, until I realized she’d finished the salted caramel, leaving only chocolate and destroying the dessert’s mindblowing salty-sweet synergy. Really, the outing itself was a treat that instantly turned into a sweet memory.

So imagine my reaction to an increasingly popular declaration being made on mommy blogs lately: “My toddler eats no sugar or white flour whatsoever.”

First thought? Sheer defensiveness. Then, “WHAT DID YOUR POOR TODDLER DO TO DESERVE THIS???” Lemme tell ya, I gave up dairy for two and half months in a last-ditch effort to make breastfeeding work, and it eroded my soul. I’m 27% more evil now. Had I been forced to give up sugar and white flour too, which to me means insanely sexy chocolate and crusty loaves of French or Italian baked goodness, I would not be here today. With no caloric or emotional reserves to draw from, no boost from my extra special favorite foods, the breast pump would’ve eventually worn me down to a pathetic pulp. The way our dryer would wear down my jeans if I put them through an unrelenting tumble cycle every three hours for two and a half months straight.

Maybe it’s because I just finished reading “In Defense of Food” by Michael Pollan, which I highly recommend as an enlightening antidote to our need to control and monitor everything we eat. Maybe it’s because for a few hellacious months, my baby refused to eat and required a feeding tube. In the process of helping her learn to embrace and enjoy eating, I had to let go of my own lingering fear and anxiety around food. (Fear is likely behind parental sugar bans, by the way.) Whatever the reason may be, I find sugar-free righteousness to be ridiculous, unrealistic, unhelpful and practically inhuman. Mark my words: An all-out sugar ban will backfire.

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