Food for Thought

One thing I LOVE about New England is that even when the weather is frigid, the sun is usually shining. Having lived in the Pacific Northwest, where is rains for 7+months out of the year, I can appreciate these brisk, sun-swept days.I know that I should take some kind of power-walk right now (my office is very pro-fitness) but I’d much rather sit here, write you, and eat a small hunk of light cheddar and a whole wheat tortilla.

I realized today, as I made my way down to our sundry shop for a yoghurt fruit smoothie, why G-d may have given the job of childbearing to females. As much as I love my husband, I do believe that if a baby were growing in his belly, it would have to subsist on white bread, Papa Gino’s extra cheese pizza, coke-a-cola and Oreos. I can just imagine what our offspring would look like after birth- mottled, pallid skin, yellow eyes, quivering lips….

I’ve been eating so healthy. Taking joy in the fact that I’m nourishing our baby to be, when I am eating. But what will happen AFTER our baby is on the outside, exposed to so much stimuli? What will happen when Daddy stays home part-time to care for Baby Beluga? Don’t get me wrong, I think the Bear was meant to be a father and I think he will be an absolutely wonderful stay at home Papa. But it’s the food, and the TV, that tricks me up.

I asked him about it last night , after he passed up the gorgeous homemade veggie barley soup I made in favor of a pizza delivery. “How are you going to manage all this? How are you going to FEED HIM?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him his strained peas.” he replied, adding a tablespoon of salt to his cheese pizza.


I know I should not worry. Things always work out. But I watch the Bear gaining the 10 or 20 that I am supposed to be adding on here! Call it sympathy pains, or whatever. I am at a loss.

Any advice ?


Post-script: After I wrote this, I called the Bear and said I was starting an intervention. He was worried that something had happened. I told him I was ending the weeknights of processed junk food. “You have to let me take care of you.” I said. “I am concerned about your health.” He agreed that he would make some changes, I feel so much better….


4 responses to this post.

  1. Ohhhh… I feel for you; my husband eats whoopie pies for breakfast. I’m so not kidding either. We’ve had loooong talks about how it will be when the baby is old enough to put two and two together, that he’s eating lumpy oatmeal while daddy feasts on a whoopie pie. Yeah. My husband’s answer is pretty much hypocrisy. I think I’m looking for some advice myself!

    Good luck!


  2. yip i have one of those too. i have no idea how i am ever going to get a kiddo to eat their veggies when daddy refuses to touch them! glad he listened to your concerns.



  3. Try feeding vegetables through a food processor and then mixing it into meatloaf. That was how I first started getting veggies into my husband’s diet. Now, he even eats salad and loves it.


  4. No advice for you. My hubby grew up poor so they ate what they grew…vegetables. He still loves them along with his hotdog and beans. Blech. But, I figure at least he gets good stuff most of the time. Lots of luck!

    And happy ICLW!


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