Why Mums Can’t Diet

This morning I trundled my large arse off to play group with my youngest son. I only fully woke up about five minutes in when he smacked a tambourine off my right tit and started trying to choke himself on a mini maraca. I realised where I was and looked around the room at the other mums dancing to “the magic ring” (insert joke here) looking like bloody idiots.

To stop myself from smashing my skull into the opposite wall in time with the bananas in pyjamas song, I started to think about my diet plans for the day ahead. Gluten free toast for a late breakfast with some nut butter and a banana I mused. Some fancy herbal tea throughout the day to keep hydrated I thought. pulses and brown rice for lunch I mulled over. Nicoise salad for tea and bottled water. Maybe I will go all out and have fizzy water tonight.

Ten minutes later I had to remove myself and my arse (otherwise known as my one year old) from the group due to him thoroughly hating the music and dancing (unlike the other twenty kids) and rolling around on the floor making the same noise I suspect a cat would make if you slowly ran over them with a lawn mower. I made a swift exit while the other mums looked sympathetically on.

I ran to a coffee shop and got an extra large latte. For the stress. So that’s my diet broken.

I then came home, put him down for a nap and watched Jeremy Kyle on ITV+1 as my life is fucking tragic. I eyed the Chinese take away left overs my husband left from last night and thought about having it for lunch with a glass of wine because it’s Friday and I need a reason to go on.

This is why mums can’t diet. We can start off with very good intentions. We can throw out all the crap food. We can read all the diet books. We can follow these gurus on Instagram. We are educated. We can prep like a boss and meal plan and feel so completely motivated and then….CHILDREN HAPPEN. “Children” happens to your day in some way. Our blood pressure goes up and up and up and even though you’ve told your head NO NO NO NO. Your heart is chanting “pizza pizza pizza pizza.”

Not only this but our days are too long. There can be fifteen hours between waking up and passing out when the kids are forced to bed and you haven’t had time to have a piss, let alone make a chickpea curry.

Then there’s the fact we don’t go out. We have no social life. The only thing we have to look forward to is Strictly, X Factor and Gogglebox. And you think I’m going to sit and watch those with some carrot sticks and a fennel tea? Give me the fucking wine and a straw and leave me be.

Just Eat also contact me more often than my mum. They seem to really care about me. It’s a forbidden love.

Erego – Mums can’t diet.

I’ll have the weekend off and start again on Monday. No one ever started anything good on a Friday. Anyway got to go, Just Eat are texting me.

 

Foolproof ways to cope with your fussy eater child

mummy's writing darling

I have based my findings on years of research with my own fussy eater toddler child. Do not attempt these tactics with other people’s fussy eater children or with fussy eater adults due to ethical reasons.

Also you can just tell the fussy eater adult to sod off and never come for tea again.

Firstly : Lower your expectations. Starting each day assuming your fussy eater child will not eat anything they are given means you will be pleasantly surprised when they eat a spoonful of chocolate cake last thing before bedtime. 

Don’t put a lot of effort into making anything you would be upset to see thrown against a wall or tipped down a toilet. 

Don’t try and work out the formula of what will make a fussy eater eat a certain food. There is no formula. It is a complete random set of serendipitous sporadic stimuli that will work one moment of one day – usually never to be repeated.

Don’t attempt a restrictive diet yourself during this time. A woman can’t be expected to abstain from carbs when she’s forced to sit in front of hot buttered toast for an hour.

Watching your child ignore it and refuse to eat it will make you want to scream “You don’t know you’re born!” before rubbing the toast over your face and toasting the rest of the loaf for yourself using your hands to eat Lurpack while you’re waiting.

Compromise. Let them have it the way they want it. It may make you gag to eat stone cold baked beans, but they like it that way so just go with it.

Lie. I’m sure there are lots of ethical reasons why you shouldn’t lie about what you are feeding a person. But they’re your kids. They’re your fussy eater. So lie.

“Yes darling, this is Peppa pig yogurt (semolina) and this is Peppa pig yogurt (sweet potato mash) oh, and look at this amazing Peppa pig yogurt (humous).”

Any new food is a victory, even if technically it’s a Ritz cracker. It’s a new food group! “There you go, dip it in your Peppa pig yogurt son!”

Always remain poised for spontaneous regurgitation.

Especially if you’ve tried to conceal a healthy foodstuff under the usual crap. You play with fire – you’re going to get spewed on.

Try to find the positive in anything they will eat. “He ate lemon cake, so that’s one of his five a day.” “He ate the breadcrumbs on a fish finger – so thats Omega something isn’t it?” “He ate baked beans so he must be over his, ‘I only eat beige things’ phase!”

Tell yourself every day that this is just a phase and they won’t grow up to be one of those “freaky eaters” who will only eat ready salted crisps and diet lemonade.

It’s not like it’s hereditary … I have no problem eating anything. Except Oysters, ooh… wonder if he’ll give an oyster a go? Maybe if I hide it in a Peppa pig yogurt.

Block out all memories of how you used to imagine pre kids that your children would eat what they were given. Especially fruit and veg! You weren’t to know you were being a tit.