|Hey there! If it weren't for YOU, my son might actually STARVE TO DEATH! Hooray!|
We buy at least 4 of these per week....for now. AWESOME.
I've lamented/whined/complained NUMEROUS times about the state of my son's eating. I have a list of various posts I was particularly ranty in, which you can find HERE, in case others of you out there need to feel like you're not alone in the great JUST F*CKING EAT battle.
I know when a food is on its way out. When Jack started complaining about the consistency of the cheese in his cheese sandwich, I knew that sandwich's days were numbered.
When Jack started getting really picky about little blobs of jam in his peanut butter sandwich, I knew time was running out for jam. Then when he started freaking if peanut butter came over the borders of the bread, I became more nervous. Then when I had to start putting them in the fridge to firm up for a while before he ate them, I knew it wasn't good. And when he started freaking that little bits of bread were getting mixed in with the peanut butter, I had a mental going away party for the peanut butter sandwich.
The same goes for instant cinnamon flavoured oatmeal. Jack started leaving half of it in the bowl. I hope he's just taking a break from it. Luckily he's eating apple cinnamon flavour, but since he already burnt himself out on that one and ditto for "maple and brown sugar," I know it's just a matter of time.
So the only thing that's REALLY been keeping the kid going is f*cking cinnamon raisin toast. Oh, and not just any brand will do. We have to buy the most expensive one of all: the SUNMAID brand, which is around 4 bucks a bag.
The most galling part is, that by the time Jack has pulled off the crusts, and pulled off any other parts he has somehow arbitrarily deemed as INEDIBLE, he has a PLATE FULL of bread that goes into the organics bin. I.E; GIGANTIC WASTE.
So lately, when I've lifted up untouched, perfectly fine pieces from his plate for question, Jack has insisted LOUDLY;
"I DON'T WANNA EAT SMALL PIECES!!!"
Oh great. There's something wrong with the "small pieces" now. I'm getting worried. Very worried.
But here is the best, best thing of all: Jack is now freaked by the way I eat. Me. Me in particular. Me, who always chews with mouth closed, as is supposedly proper.
It started as the Christmas break was winding to a close. You know--filling little Auties everywhere with near-crippling dread? One day I was eating something and talking at the same time. Jack got upset and insisted he be allowed to eat his lunch or dinner in the dining room, not the kitchen.
"I DON'T WANNA HEAR YOU TALKING IN YOUR MOUTH!!!!" he wailed.
Talking in my mouth?!? What the HELL does that mean? You know, as a parent with a kid on the spectrum, you soon learn that they have more creative ways of describing things, and you have to be a FREAKING DETECTIVE sometimes to figure out just what the hell they are talking about before they actually COMBUST.
|MOM YOU'RE AN IDIOT!!!!!!!!!|
So, I figured that talking in my mouth actually meant "talking with food in my mouth." Damn it, as far as family etiquette is concerned, I don't care who the eff is talking with food in his/her mouth. If their mouths are super crammed and it makes their talking muffled, or if I can really see what's in someone's mouth while he/she yaps, okay, then maybe that's a problem.
Okay, so he was freaking out about people talking with food in their mouths. All of a sudden. Out of nowhere. Fine, fine, these OCD things are the manifestations of great anxiety, and a need to buckle down as only a control freak can.
But it's gotten worse. He can hardly eat at the table with me. And I've mostly stopped talking while I'm eating, because let's admit it--we can't help being molded by our kids' idiosyncrasies just so we can have some damn peace.
But Jack? Well, Jack hates the way I CHEW now.
Jack: "Mom, why do you chew like THIS?" (imitates a closed mouth chewing motion)
Me: "I don't know?!? That's how I eat! Teeth have to come up and down to grind food."
Jack: "but I wish you wouldn't chew like THIS:" mimics a chewing motion that involves the front teeth predominately.
I don't quite know what to do about this. It's making me feel self-conscious as hell, and I don't know how long before this neurosis carries over to the classroom lunch session. Right now, I've decided that I won't let him leave the room and eat by himself, because the best way to overcome a phobia is to confront it all the time.
Actually, my stomach is in knots over this, and I'm having a hard time even writing about it.
I have to find some kind of food therapist for the kid before he winds up like this:
|oh the horror....|