54 posts tagged “food”

I read this article this morning about 10 children hospitalized after a daycare employee mistakenly gave them windshield wiper fluid, thinking it was Kool Aid.

After being sufficiently appalled at the error (How on earth do you not smell the chemicals as you're pouring it into cups? And how could you miss the writing on the label?), I realized there are a lot of beverages that look like other things, just because of the unnatural food dyes. Someone could have put it in a locker room refrigerator, thinking it was Powerade or Gatorade. If the wiper fluid was green, it could have even been HiC!

This has steeled my resolve to keep The Boy on (soy) milk and water for as long as possible - and certainly for as long as he's in daycare. I may open the list to tomato juice and watered down apple juice in the coming months, but only at home.

And nothing with really crazy colors. That's just a recipe for disaster.

Oscar has nothing on me today, and I don't even know why.

The day started out well enough. I had to have some cavities filled, and it went much quicker than I had anticipated. I hit the ground running as soon as I got to work, enjoyed a lovely lunch at my desk (which is normal, especially at the beginning of the week), and, generally speaking, had a pretty decent day.

And then something snapped. I don't even know what it was, but something snapped.

Needless to say, I'm cranky.

I took one of the ladies at work grocery shopping yesterday. She's desperately trying to lose weight and has bounced from one diet system to another. Honestly, I think she just needed someone to show her how to make good food choices. I showed her the food labels and the importance of the Weight Watchers Three (Fiber, Calories and Fat), and she's very excited about her diet.

So much so that she's telling everyone to come see me. Oy vey.

I told her that I'd like still be her Weight Watchers buddy - I just don't want to be anyone elses!

Ugh.

Then one of the guys at work comes to my desk and tells me that I need to lead a spinning class here at work.

Um, I beg your pardon? I don't do spinning. I barely do exercise. Give me a break.

It's partially my own doing, of course. When I'm at work, I do the bulk of my eating - and it's usually not all good. I consume anywhere from 1700-2000 calories a day depending on my mood and my weight usually fluctuates between 112-117 pounds. I don't like to exercise (very bad, I know), so I do what I can to make the most out of playing with The Boy (push-ups, crunches, leg lifts) and trying to tidy the house (lots of movement between rooms). But I also don't do a whole lot of eating during the week once I get home, largely because I can't make myself something to eat until after The Boy goes to bed, and by then, I'm too tired and/or it's too late, so I just grab a quick snack (or bowl of cereal) and call it a night. It's not the healthiest thing, I know, but it's something light before bed.

Anyway, my coworkers only see my diet at work. They don't know what I do at home, and I don't feel particularly compelled to share my daily life with them. So they look at me in awe and wonder how I can eat as much as I do and not balloon into the shape of a small house - and then they expect me to tell them that they, too, can eat as much me and move as little as me and wear a Size 4.

Hm. You can start by not shoveling Wendy's cheeseburgers into your mouth everyday.

Blech.

I'll be honest: I'd like to lose 10-15 pounds. I used to weigh much less than this when I was in college. Right now, though, it's not a priority, which is why I haven't taken steps to do it.

To top it all off, it's month end, which means I have a carefully laid out plan of action for the first part of this week, and one of the directors came by looking for test results on a test that was supposed to have finished two weeks ago but won't be done in all the venues until next week. How do I know this? Because I spent all last week looking for finished tests to put them into my Outlook Tasks list!

So, now I'm going to beat my head against the wall and try to make it through the day. I'll be here for a while, but everyone else leaves in about three hours. I just need to make it until then.

In the meantime, you can bet all day long I'll be singing my Grumpy Song!

When I came home last night, my husband had just finished changing The Boy's diaper and looked a little harried. I put down my things, and The Boy righted himself and ran to me. I thought he was wearing a shirt different than the one I put on him that morning, but it had been a long day, and I could well have been mistaken.

As I was cuddling The Boy (ever so briefly - these Welcome Home cuddles don't last long), my husband announced, "So, apparently, ketchup is more than a condiment now." I looked at him quizzically. He continued, "He started dipping his pasta and chicken, but then he just reached in and started taking handfuls of it."

Poor Chris! Before I arrived, The Boy apparently had ketchup all over his hands and face - and I wasn't mistaken about the different shirt, either.

Who knew ketchup was its own side dish?

Yesterday, I got a call from one of The Boy’s teachers. They were having a special Thanksgiving luncheon at school and she wanted to make sure he could eat some of the food.

“We’re going to have turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes with little marshmallows on top,” she said. “I know he can have the turkey, but can he have the rest of it, too?”

“Absolutely!” I replied. “And let me know how he does with the sweet potatoes, because every time I’ve offered it to him at home, it winds up on my kitchen floor.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll let you know. Thank you!”

Well, sure enough, he didn’t touch the sweet potatoes. This morning, I heard all about it. The Boy even watched as the other kids cleaned sweet potatoes off their own plates, but he refused to touch it. Even when his teacher offered him a spoonful, he forcefully pushed her hand away and shook his head, adamantly refusing it. He stuck his finger in the cranberry sauce (and didn’t care for it), ate a little of the stuffing, and devoured the turkey, but the sweet potatoes remained completely untouched. I wasn’t at all surprised.

It reminded me of a time in March when we were in LA for Mom’s memorial service. It was lunchtime, so Chris was feeding The Boy. I only brought a few jars of baby food but also had some homemade food, including carrots and sweet potatoes. (I also stopped at the grocery store and bought him some avocadoes. This was back when he loved eating avocadoes.)

Well, The Boy was not a huge fan of carrots. He’d eat them for me, albeit begrudgingly, but he tended to spit them out over anyone else who dared to try. Chris offered him sweet potatoes this particular afternoon, and as soon as The Boy saw them, there was much thrashing and screaming as he refused to open his mouth. Finally, mid-scream, Chris managed to sneak in a spoonful, at which point the thrashing and screaming immediately ceased and the sweet potatoes were completely consumed.

The last time I was able to successfully get this kid to eat sweet potatoes, I had to mix them with some butternut squash risotto. Even then, he seemed to know what I had planned and only ate a couple of ounces before turning his full attention to his chicken nuggets.

He’s really not a finicky eater. He just doesn’t like cooked carrots. Or sweet potatoes, for that matter.

The end of hurricane season coincides with the annual holiday food drives. Since I tend to stock up on hurricane-safe food stuffs during non-hurricane season (after all, you can never be too prepared), I take this opportunity to clear out my pantry and donate to the local food banks.

In previous years, the haul has been significant. It wasn't uncommon for me to bring two or three full sacks of canned food to work. I never looked at it as wasting money; after all, I knew the food was going to a food bank to help those less fortunate than I. And, as it was largely stuff that I wasn't going to use before its expiration date (usually a date in the spring), I figured it would be better to donate it to a food bank than to further contribute to the landfills.

Anyway, I eagerly attacked our pantry yesterday morning, fully expecting to fill up a couple of sacks. I found some soup that I really didn't like (and my husband doesn't like), an unopened box of cereal I didn't think I would eat, 2 boxes of Parmalat milk, and a couple of jars of what used to be one of The Boy's favorite foods. And then... nothing.

In reality, it's not a bad problem to have. It means I showed a certain degree of restraint this hurricane season and only bought things we actually use/eat. It also means that I've done a fair job of keeping my pantry inventory in check, so that it's not completely overloaded just because it was BOGO.

I do feel bad, though, about not bringing in my usual amount, especially since the food banks are exceptionally bare, but both my husband and I can be grateful this Thanksgiving that we have a roof over our heads, that we are gainfully employed, and that we are all healthy. After all, I can always buy more food for the food drive.

We have meetings at the corporate office quite often. It's not uncommon for there to be anywhere from eight to thirty people from out of town (sometimes out of the country) descending upon our office for a large meeting. It's also not uncommon for all these people to meet during working lunches.

We also have a kitchen at the corporate office. It's our test kitchen, so it's essentially a scaled-down version of a restaurant kitchen. It's a fantastic place, and I was known to occasionally haunt it in search of vanilla ice cream when I was pregnant.

We also have vendors who like to give us samples of stuff, vendors who also offer competitive pricing on raw goods (which we tend to keep in stock, anyway). And we have two executive chefs who, well, cook.

So, given the economic climate, I was quite happy to see the post-meeting-leftovers spread in the break room, all courtesy of our very own kitchen.

Normally, the catering for meetings like these have been outsourced to Panera or Ruby Tuesday or some other chain. I always thought that was kind of silly since, as a restaurant chain, we offer catering ourselves (complete with a fancy truck).

But, again, the times are a-changing, and, well, it was just so nice to see that someone is looking at the bottom line and keeping the food in-house.

Now if only we could do something about curbing travel expenses...

I just got a call from the Food Director at The Boy's day care, and she told me as much, so it must be true!

She had called for clarification about The Boy's food sensitivities. See, there's a number of foods his little body can't tolerate, so I print out a list each week of those foods (and the reactions the center can expect if he ingests any of these foods) and a comprehensive list of no-no's based on the current week's menu. It makes their lives easier, and I can be certain that I've exercised due care in ensuring The Boy doesn't have any adverse reactions for which he might be sent home.

Sometimes the list changes and I get to take something off of it. Sometimes I have to add something. But we let The Boy try different things from time to time, and if he happens to react poorly, it gets added to the list. And if something currently banned is suddenly okay, it gets taken off the list. Either way, I make a point of keeping the list updated each week and giving his school the latest edition.

Oh, and she also said I was really organized. Ha! Do I have his school fooled! I'll bet they probably think The Boy lives in an immaculately kept home, too, with spotless floors, pristine cabinet doors, and nary a speck of dust in sight. (He doesn't, by the way. Are you kidding me? I'm ecstatic if I can muster enough energy to run the vacuum!) No, I'm just really good about keeping files on the computer. I need to work on the physical world now, opposed to the virtual one.

So, I feel good about the care I've taken in ensuring he is safe and healthy at school.

And she said I was a good mommy! Hee hee!

It's almost noon. I've already finished eating my lunch in the form of a microwaveable meal. It was salisbury steak, something I think only tastes right in microwave-meal form.

Anyway, I'm feeling snackish. Not because I'm hungry, of course. I mean, I just finished eating lunch.

No, I'm feeling snackish because I just want to snack.

It could be because I watched the guy fill the vending machine in the break room a few minutes ago. It could be because I have two big bags of chips at my desk. It could be because I have two candy bars stashed in my drawer.

Or, it could be because I'm just feeling snackish.

Ugh.

I'll get a glass of water and see if that helps at all. Somehow, I doubt it will.

[sigh]

A few months ago, I had to take bananas off The Boy's List of Approved Foods (LAF). Despite devouring bananas since he was six months of age (whole bananas since eight months), he suddenly developed a mild rash after eating them, so they were immediately banned. This weekend, though, tired of depriving him of cheese, milk, and other foods he loves so much, I decided to give him a banana and see if the reactions were still there. And after a 30 minutes (then an hour, then 90 minutes), I noticed there wasn't a single rash developing anywhere on his body. And, oh, I had never seen this child so happy to eat something!

The next morning, I offered another banana and carefully watched him for any adverse reactions. There were none, except that he was quite distraught that he had finished his banana as quickly as he did. So, I decided, bananas were back on the LAF.

Pineapples, however...

It's not that he reacts to them, necessarily. Not outwardly, anyway. But I've hypothesized that the pineapples - while not directly causing any tummy problems - are not helping ease tummy issues. So, I've put pineapples on the restricted list, meaning that he can have some pineapples every other week or so, but not every day.

In other food-related news, soy milk has also made it to the LAF, but I haven't tried offering any soy-cheese yet. (I'll be honest - the soy cheese kind of freaks me out.) I was so happy to be able to bring milk to school this morning for him, since he's been strictly on water at school for the past month.

And I made a pot roast last night (MSG-free, of course), which was duly rejected by The Boy. Once I popped a piece of beef into his mouth, he held it there for a little while, almost contemplatively, before pulling it out with his fingers and placing it in my hand. Not even the carrots or potatoes met his approval. It wasn't so bad that he scraped his tongue (he's done that before), but it clearly wasn't something he wanted to eat.

Well, at least Chris liked it.

(No, the title is not meant to imply that I'm on mushrooms. It's merely the post that is about mushrooms.)

The very first food aversion I noticed when I was pregnant was towards mushrooms. My husband and I were in Los Angeles, visiting the (now closed) Hard Rock Cafe at the Beverly Center. I ordered the vegetarian sandwich - one of my favorites - only to discover after three bites that I had no desire to eat it. I couldn't explain why this was so; only two months prior I ate one with gusto at the Hard Rock Cafe in Orlando. Several weeks later, I realized I had a major aversion to mushrooms and didn't eat any throughout my pregnancy.

The soup I'm eating for lunch today has mushrooms in it, and I've discovered I'm not a big fan of them in this soup. I had stuffed mushrooms just two weeks ago (you couldn't tear me away from the table) and mushrooms in a stir fry I made last week (and I know in all certainty that I'm not pregnant), so I know it's not an aversion. I think I just have something against these particular mushrooms.

But picking out the mushrooms from my soup got me thinking... With all the poisonous varieties out there, someone had to watch a lot of animals eating mushrooms and following them to see what, if anything, would happen to them before consuming those same mushrooms himself. Or, I suppose a single person in a tribe might have consumed one and become violently ill or died, thus alerting the rest of the tribe to the dangers of eating that particular variety. After all, food (excluding breastmilk) is definitely something that's learned and not inherent.

Damn, there's a lot of mushrooms in this soup.