There’s a whole lot of grief going on in the world today: #Ferguson, following the death of Mike Brown. ISIS. Robin Williams and (much-needed) sparked conversations surrounding suicide and depression. And these examples are only the tip of the iceberg – because truthfully, there are a whole lot of people saying a whole lot of things about these topics and more, so please, go and understand and take a minute to educate yourself.
But for our purposes here, be it because of my run-from-pain Enneagram seven self or simple human need to not entirely be consumed by the dreary and depressive, Cara proudly presents Incredibly Important, Life-Changing Thoughts.
And this week’s topic of conversation? Food moaners.
In an attempt to get our kid to eat more than fruit and yogurt, yogurt and fruit, repeat, a friend of ours suggested he be given four food options at meals – perhaps two from Mama and Dada’s choice of grub, and two from his extensive two-food repertoire. So we began to put salad and chicken, beans and bread on his plate at dinner time, but in order to show him how delightfully AMAZING a chow-filled plate can be, we started moaning along with our meals:
Soon these words and phrases marked the extend of dinner conversation, but much to our chagrin, it actually worked! For the most part, Little Man began eating (or at least attempting to eat) like a champ …and in the meantime has become a full-fledged food moaner himself. I need not prompt him to try a bite of P-dub’s delectable tomato soup, because before the bowl is even placed in front of him, he’s off and moaning.
And it makes me wonder: have we birthed a food moaner?
I mean, don’t get me wrong, his moans have the power to make me feel pretty good about myself, whether I’ve actually stood up for thirty minutes straight and cooked a meal, or whether I’ve just taken a piece of string cheese out of its plastic wrap cover. (Mmmm, chee! chee! Mama, yum! I know, Baby: I do what I can).
But is this forever?
Back in the day, before marriage and babies, when it was still just me and Mr. Darcy (my long-ago pup), I lived with a family of food moaners. Most of the time my “cooking” consisted of the Trader Joe’s frozen food aisle, but for those rare nights when I’d bust out one of two meals I knew how to cook: taco soup and TRB (tofu, rice, broccoli, Santa Cruz-style). So one night, although we each had our own living spaces, we decided to do dinner together; I went to the store and purchased ground turkey, taco spice and yellow onion; tomatoes, tortilla chips and cheese; avocados, black beans and chicken broth. And I went to taco soup town.
When the five of us finally sat down to dinner, the result couldn’t have been more satisfying – in fact, it was actually quite a bit like meal time “conversations” with Cancan as of late:
I was about to drop my day job and go full-time into the taco soup-making business when we had another meal a week or two later – complete with grilled hotdogs, oven-heated buns, ketchup and mustard on their part – and I realized this: no matter the meal, they were bonafide, real-life food moaners. It didn’t matter whether we were eating processed meat trimmings and fat, or a slaved-after, soupy meal of Mexican goodness, they’d moan. They’d moan and they’d groan, and they’d make any preparer of food feel like a million bucks.
And I’m okay with that, I suppose, because what’s a world without orgasmically-inducing meal times?
But if this is going to be a part of the dinner time conversation for the next eighteen years, I’d better prepare myself.
What about you? Are you a food moaner? Have you ever been around food moaners, and what did it elicit in you? Should we all try our mouths at food-moaning today? Do share the results with us!0