I have realized lately that my relationship with food has changed over the past four years. To be clear, I still understand and taste the difference between:
1.) something yummy
2.) something slightly off yet still edible
3.) and then the taste buds that have been super refined which signal, "That's been left out for four days. You are an idiot for putting THAT in your mouth."
I've got those three categories covered.
I've always loved food. I'm a big eater, love trying new things, and love most all spices from all cultures. I never really "forgot" to eat. To my surprise, in the beginning of motherhood, I would forget all the time to eat. Around 3pm on most days I would discover the clean, empty bowl sitting on the counter that was supposed to hold my cereal at 9am. It's mostly because there was never time to prepare a meal (pour cereal in bowl, add milk), sit down with proper utensils, chew and swallow. I was so used to that style of eating. I know, I'm asking a lot right? I just kept pushing eating aside until I could follow these common steps in preparing my food. I never really noticed I was hungry because I was so busy- you know, being a new mom and all. Then after a few months or years of that style of eating, I found out I was losing weight because people said to me, "You're REALLY skinny. Are you eating?" Oh, I guess I'm not.
So now I have a new style of eating. I am, what I call, The Clean Up Crew or just The Garbage Collector. Now, I eat what I can, when I can- even if it means I'm not actually hungry at that point. And because I don't like to waste food, I eat all the left overs from two boys.
I eat whatever is in front of me because who knows when I'll get to prepare anything myself. I eat when I can because who knows when I'll see food again. And it kills me to see food go to waste, especially if I'm the one who prepared it.
Four and a half years later, I have to say with the utmost confidence that I am totally sick and tired of making entire meals out of:
sandwich crusts
very soggy cereal
toast
any crusty/crispy parts of a fried egg
half eaten egg yolks
the heels of bread loaves
half eaten containers of yogurt
grapes bitten in half
the skins of fruits (peaches, nectarines, plums)
half finished smoothies
Why not save it for later, you may ask? Why eat it when you're not hungry, you want to know? Just wrap it up and put it in the fridge. Well... how disgusting would it be to try to reheat a piece of toast? How about saving fried eggs for later? Drinking a green smoothie which has formed a thick crust around the edges? Has anyone ever saved sandwich crusts for future enjoyment? I think not.
No matter what it is, I am eating cold food. All the time. OR.... I actually have the opportunity to eat something hot because I was lucky enough to prepare something, but then I burn my tongue repeatedly because I'm so excited to eat something hot. And it's usually standing up by the stove, where I just dished it onto my plate or heck... right out of the pan using the spatula or large slotted spoon with which I used to cook the food. Who has time to dish it, find utensils, carry it to the table three feet away and eat???? Those three feet can really mean the difference between eating RIGHT NOW and eating two hours later. You probably haven't seen my house to know the vast array of clutter that covers the floor in those three feet.
And really, c'mon... waiting until it cools down defeats the purpose of eating something hot. There's countless amounts of things that can happen between really hot food and "hot yet not burn your tongue" food. In my house, ALL of those countless amounts of things DO happen, which brings me back to my plate when the food is cold. In the olden days, I would have heated it up again and it would have been no big deal. But I have learned that heating it up again just puts me back into that same situation- hot food, wait, crisis in the bathroom, come back, cold food. Besides, eating food that's been re-heated, really??? RE-heated??? That's almost as much trouble as preparing the food in the first place, with the addition of it not tasting quite as fresh.
Like this morning... my son wanted pancakes. Great! I can do that. I scrambled around the kitchen gathering whatever ingredients I figured would taste somewhat what a pancake is supposed to taste like, furiously mixed them in a bowl, since I only have 3.2 nanoseconds to complete my task. Started dropping them in the pan. Baby is screaming and pulling at my leg indicating that he wants one NOW! My older son is lying half awake on the floor asking repeatedly, "When are the pancakes going to be done." And sounding as if he has been waiting for 47 years for his one pancake. I take out the first four pancakes - one to child, one to baby, two to Daddy. Next batch - four more sizzling away. I watch and wait. The recipe says three minutes on each side. What???? That's six minutes.
Okay fine, I guess I have no choice but to wait. Because turning up the heat in the pan so they cook faster, when the recipe specifically says "MEDIUM HEAT" means that you'll burn the pancake. And there's all kinds of things that come out of my children's mouths when they eat burned pancakes- like um... the pancake. So I wait not four minutes, but at 5.25 minutes I hear, "I would like another pancake please."
Have I mentioned yet that at this point, I am hungry too? It's morning, my eyes are sleepy, and I am operating on minimal energy and no clarity in the brain. I WOKE UP hungry, so you can bet that 90 minutes later I have reached the level of starvation that comes close to the really poor people on the streets in India. Close, not quite. But really close.
So... my reply to the request for another pancake is, "Who said that?" Well, one of the three boys has no ability to form sentences. So, it could be Daddy who needs to eat because he has to go to work soon. Or my older son who needs to eat because.... because... because? Well, because he's four and without food there might be another upheaval or mutiny which would prevent me from eating any sooner anyway.
I succumb to my fate. Even closer to the streets of India, I give one pancake to child, one pancake to hubby. But what's this??? Alas! There's a pancake. FOR ME! It's just sitting there, steaming hot from the pan. But I have to watch the next new batch in the pan- six minutes and remember to flip at three so do not set the spatula down. However, all three boys are happy, pancakes are looking happy, and I get to grab a steaming hot pancake and shove it in my mouth. Utensils? Syrup? Butter? Plate? Chair? Who needs any of that! It's hot, a wee bit on the "Burn Your Tongue" hot but who really cares. I got to eat a pancake. I feel triumphant. Really. Triumphant is the accurate description.
And guess what? I am bold enough to think I can conquer the last pancake sitting there, because Baby wasn't quite ready to eat his second one yet. I hold it to my mouth about ready to shovel it in, and then I hear, "Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma." My precious baby is doing that cute little sign language sign for "more" (also repeatedly) and grins at me. Full of sheer joy and excitement for my yummy pancakes. He can almost fall out of his chair when he gets that excited.
I look at the pancakes in the skillet. Since I ate the first pancake in 13 seconds, I still had roughly five minutes and 47 seconds to go until that next batch would be ready to eat. Then there's the insanely long cooling down period so the baby can actually eat it. And it all sums up to me just giving him that pancake.
And just to round off what usually happens after every meal, both children quickly finish eating just as I'm about to take my next bite standing up near the stove. But I become paralyzed as I get my first glimpse of the crumbs that are stuck to their hands with the syrup, the clothes which are horrific, and often stuff in hair that needs to be cleared. They start climbing down from their chairs and threatening to touch every single wall in the house. They're done eating so they automatically assume it's play time, so I have to act fast. I herd them to the bathroom and try to wash hands as fast as possible so that I can still eat a warm pancake and flip the ones that are in the pan slowly turning black.
Some turned black- which will have my name on them for tomorrow's breakfast. I ate one hot and three cold pancakes. All standing up and over the course of about two hours. Yes, it sounds like four pancakes is a lot but to fully understand my definition of "Clean Up Crew" here's what it looked like: one nice and hot, one at room temp about 30 minutes later, and then while I cleared the table I ate the left over half of an eaten one drowned in syrup by my older child, and then I ate another left over half of my Baby's pancake that was squished so tightly in his hand that it resembled more like a brown sponge or loofah.
But I ate... and my stomach really can't tell the difference anyway. I have a pretty big clue as to what I'll have for lunch. Just pick something from my list above.
