Pick Your Food

image from here

Toddlers fussing over food is no news for anyone. As they enter the wonderland of solid foods, they are bound to get lost. They will be picking some as favourites and will be turning up their tiny noses at others.
Little K has not been very different, but I must say he made weaning more easy than tough.
Neither C nor me are fussy eaters - we eat what we reasonably can from our plate; so probably K took it from us. And I would like to brag that I do care to cook fresh meals everyday, so may be that helps too. All proud mums can raise an eyebrow,  and say "Big Deal! every mum does, and should!".

K hasn't been a difficult child on food front (well, on any front really, says the very proud mommy in me). He has slowly built a respectable list of veggies, fruits and other stuff that he readily eats, which as most mums-to-toddlers will agree, is something worth a pat on back. His, and mine.

Over the last month I have noticed that he happily and willingly eats most veggies like cabbage (!),beans, beet root(!),peas, parsnips (!), sweet potato, potato,cauliflower(!),spinach (!), methi ( fenugreek greens) (!), gourds, pumpkins and also raw ones like tomatoes, carrot, cucumber sticks even lettuce!.
I haven't seen much liking for eggplant ( unless well disguised), bhendi (okra)( again, should be accompanied with potato) , bell peppers and mushrooms ( unless on pizza).

He likes Indian food so can eat these in his daily meal -all daals ( lentils)  like toor (split pigeon peas), urad (black gram), moong (green gram), masoor ( red lentils) ; all usals (chickpeas, black eyed beans, kidney beans, moth beans etc) ; roti / chapati, bread, rice, semolina upma, broken wheat porridge / upma.


He also eats a variety of dry powdered chutneys very common to andhra and marathi cuisine. Loves metkut.
He is happy to eat regional dishes like poha (beaten rice), thalipeeth (a kind of bread made by mixing a variety of flours like wheat, sorghum, rice etc) and idli ( steamed rice cakes), dosa (pancakes with a fermented batter).
He eats fruits happily too, and if he is in no mood to eat anything else fruits always come handy.He is OK with most of the common fruits here - bananas, apples, pineapple, strawberries, raspberries, kiwis, oranges, grapes, pears, watermelon. Some exotics like papaya, guava aren't very well received. I have tried mango here a couple of times and he didn't seem keen. But a proper Alphonso mango is still elusive, and I have my hopes pinned on it, that one day K will have his own moment of epiphany.

We cook vegetarian food at home, but he has happily tried chicken and fish elsewhere.
Though he is still not keen on drinking milk, he eats his breakfast cereal well with milk.
He does love eating cupfuls of honey-yoghurt or paneer (cottage cheese), butter and he adores ghee ( clarified butter).
He likes his eggs boiled or fried. Even omelettes work well.

Every time I make a trip to India, I look around just to see what snack or tea-time stuff kids eat around me. I take a trip down memory lane to remember what we ate as kids during those 'neither lunch nor dinner' hunger pangs.
And then I bring it here so that little K can eat it here in London.
Some favourites are rolls - tup-sakhar-poli or gul-tup-poli ( flat bread smeared with ghee, sprinkled with sugar or crushed palm sugar), lahya cha peeth , nachnichi kheer, ravyachi kheer,  bhadang, different types of wadis, ladoos, chivdas.
Biscuits, bars, munchies like crisps weren't very omnipresent then, and snacking would mean eating phutane, or peanuts and a piece of jaggery, sprouts etc.
K is OK with it. He likes chikki, peanuts, soaked almonds, cashews etc.

As happy as I am with his eating habits, he is still my little baby, and I don't mind spoiling him once in a while with treats. Biscuits (cream biscuits please), pastries, chocolates, ice-lollies are firm favourites and greatly relished. The trick is to keep them just as a once-in-a-while treat; if he can have it easily,it loses the appeal.

There are some simple rules that both C and me follow. We don't eat so called junk food in front of K ( well you can't just give it up in a night, can you?) , at least at meal times. We hardly buy crisps any more. Or all the deep fried goodies we were used to, to go with our tea. Or the lovely cakes that you can eat with a scoop of ice cream. No frozen meals, no heat-and-eats. Heck, C even gave up jams on his toast, lest K gets hooked to the sugar-high it brings!

But we are no food police, and we do give in to our temptations once in a while. Just that eating has been consciously more healthy since little K has started joining us at the dinner table.
And no one is complaining!

Never too late, to be a bit better!

The blog needed some TLC - and a revamp. The millionth in a month if you may - but as the philosophy of the blog has been, its never too late.
And since its never too late, there are currently new philosophies on-boarding.
First, the blog needed a good url, so now its a bit better - belittlebetter.blogspot.com
Secondly, it needed a connect, between me, the blog and its title.
As I am trying a little bit harder, to make this blog better, Voilà! new title, new description, but same blog and same (ole) me!

There is much more to do and what needs to be done,  should be done.
Try a little harder, and be a little better.

Keep Calm and Carry On..

Lil K soon turns three.

He is quite a handful.. and born to a temperamental ( C would rather just say MENTAL ;-) ) mother, we clash often :)

He has gotten into terrible twos ( that's the only sane justification for the tantrums these days) a year late , and I am driven to the edge of hysterics when C isn't around us to keep peace.

The other day K insisted on walking to the supermarket instead of a ride in the buggy, to which I happily agreed ( on after thought , I don't know why).

A short walk further to the supermarket is a small bridge, which runs over a train track. K knows these routes by heart. He hears the train whistle from miles away.

I keep supermarket shopping to bare minimum when K is with me. So that I have a hand free to grab his and keep him from straying away. But, that fateful day, though I just shopped 1 bagful, the bag was a tad heavy.

We finished with the shopping, K being unbelievably cooperative.

As a thank you gesture, instead of just giving him a few hugs and kisses, I agreed to walk him to the bridge to see the trains - he loves to run from one side of the bridge to other, and wave to the trains till they disappear.

He did his routine 30 mile run on that small bridge waving to a million trains. ( these are daily commute local trains fondly called the tube, which run every few minutes)

Then after a couple of pleads, bribes and threats on my part, I was able to head back home, with the bagful and the handful.

House is a short walk away - 5 mins on my own, an hour with K - OK , not being OTT its half an hour with K.

After about 10 mins, when the house was a few blocks away, K realised he was tiered.

As is the rule, he stood in front of me, and lifted both his hands up.

So did I ( in my mind ,I threw them up in defeat!) The bag was heavy, almost bursting at its seams, and I was flustered and crabby with the infinite amount of babbling and ( pretend on my part and genuine on K's ) excitement at each passing train. ( Seriously, how can kids jump in joy for the same thing a 1000 times in quick succession?)

I said NO. I can't lift you K. We are near to the house, the bag is heavy and YOU wanted to walk ( this I will use in my defence once he is old enough to understand)

He realised that being cute and small isn't helping.

So he started to cry and clung to my legs. I kept walking with the bagful, and lil K trying to climb up his way into my arms.

He realised that this isn't working.

He let go, and started to call me names. ( lil K has a vast vocab of 'naughty mommy' and 'I don't like you')

Ears burning with shame (thankfully no British passer-bys to nod in disarrangement) , I inched towards house, still a painful few blocks away.

Now K had had enough ( gahh!) - his lil hands balled up in fists he screamed his face red, tears streaming down his face. To add insult to injury - he interspersed it with a pitiful ' Daaadddddyyyy'

I was witnessing lil K's début performance of throwing a tantrum.

Don't ask me how I controlled the rising urge to smack him. I almost smacked him.

I held his hand with my free one, and dragged him all angry and red and teary eyed the last few steps into the house.

Keep Calm and Carry On - was what I was reminding myself through all this.

At home, with K fed and tucked in with a lot of extra hugs and kisses and heartfelt apologies, I went on a guilt trip. Atonement would only come after narrating this to C in the evening and make him say what I did was right.

yes, parenting is not easy. It does push you to the very end.

At times like this, I seek solace in Google search. And it comes to me in more ways than one. I am not alone, I am not the only wicked mom in the whole world wide web.

Finds like this help me keep calm and carry on!

You Are Awful..

Sweetest , sweetest song ever!

(Frank Sinatra, Betty Garrett)

HE:

You're awful,

Awful good to look at,

Awful nice to be with,

Awful sweet to have and hold.

You're nothing,

Nothing if not lovely,

Nothing if not dazzling,

Nothing but pure gold!

You're frightening,

Frightening when you say that you might go away;

You're boring,

Boring into my heart to stay.

You're cheap, dear,

Chap at any price dear,

Cheap for such a diamond,

Cheap for such a pearl.

What I said before I'll say again:

You're awful,

Awful nice to be my girl.

SHE:

You're old, dear,

Old with worldly wisdom,

Old like Gorgonzola,

Old like vintage France champagne,

You're so-so,

So-so kinda charming,

So-so kind of witty,

So I can't explain!

HE:

Can't stand you,

I can't stand you to give some fellow the eye;

Can't see you

In the arms of another guy

Who needs you

Needs you to distraction,

Needs you till he's crazy,

Needs you rain or shine.

BOTH:

I'm the one who needs you and I think you're awful,

Awful nice to say you're mine!

lyrics courtesy http://www.metrolyrics.com

Confession

My up bringing imbibed on me to not ask for anything from anyone. If you don't have it, deal with it. [ I did deal with it, and sometimes not in a very ladylike way, I must confess.]

Enjoy what you have, don't fret for things you don't have. [But fret I did, I must confess].

If you want something, don't borrow it, don't beg for it. Be patient [ha! me? patient? whats that now?], and it will come to you.

And if you want something badly, then work hard and earn it!

I try and follow it even today.

And there is another side to this.

This is something am not proud of, but its there. hence the confession.

The way I don't ask for things from people, I don't like it when people ask for things from me.

People I barely know, or have just known or the few whom I don't know very well. I feel as if I can't trust them enough to take care of stuff they are borrowing, or even return it at all.

I have worked and earned my things, let others do it too!

Well, I think I can't trust people very freely.

Unlike C. He is, as I call him ' Santa Claus on Prozac'. ( quoting Phoebe from Friends )

Ever cheerful, positive, warm and friendly - as if on a drug induced stupor which compels him to be good all the time!

He sees everything that is good, and ignores whatever is bad. He is like that .. no really, he is like that!

Well being his better(!) half, I somehow can't appreciate - or I can only begrudgingly appreciate and approve of it.

You see, he is the good cop, and am left to be the bad cop. Always.

Anyway, I digress.

It so happened that C lent someone money, and we both very well knew that it won't be coming back. But still he did it. His philosophy being, 'if we can, we should.' And also, 'if we give, we will get back in more forms than one'.

But I could not take such a holistic approach to it, and we had a fight.

Not because he lent the money ..how much ever I like to stick to my 'never ask for anything, and stay away from askers' motto, I always relent and join him on his charitable pursuits.

We fought because he didn't tell me about it. Again, the good cop that he is, he thought that a few grand spent thus should not cause any distress to me or to him, or to both, thus preserving the calm and peace of our days.

But I found out , and hell broke loose.

After numerous arguments, counter-arguments [ but, My Lord, he didn't tell me!] and a burnt dinner later, the storm died down, and things returned to normal. [Though the money didn't, and won't return. That's all My Lord.]

On introspection, I know I come out looking that bad cop again, but may be he was not wrong.

I read a sermon by Osho in a news paper few days ago. It narrated a story in one of Rabindranath Tagore's poems..

A beggar sets out for his daily alms. As is the routine, he puts a few grains of rice in his bag, just so that people will see those, and be compelled to give, thinking 'Someone has given alms to this beggar, may be I should give too' .

No sooner has he set out, a King's chariot comes galloping by. The King alights, and to the beggar's surprise, asks for alms from the beggar! The King says that a holy man has advised him to do so, and in doing so a great calamity on the kingdom can be averted.

The beggar, who till now was anticipating generous alms from the King, is bitterly disappointed. Very reluctantly, he takes just 2 grains of rice and gives it to the King. The King thanks him and gallops away.

That day, the beggar receives a lot of alms from various people. But, he is still grudging those 2 grains he had to part with for the King. At the end of the day, his wife is delighted to see her husband's daily earnings. He bitterly tells her that she does not know what they had lost.As they empty the last of the grains from his bag, they find 2 grains of rice made of gold. He is now even more bitter, thinking had he given more to the King, he would have had more golden grains of rice!

What you give, turns into gold, what you guard, turns into dust! If one gives away everything, everything turns to gold.

Now , again, am not the one to take a holistic approach - but for all things intangible, I confess that there is a lesson to be learnt here.