Getting them to Eat Right

One of the most challenging things about raising a child can be what they put into their mouths.
Obviously, when they're babies, we don't want them putting things like flowers, dirt, window cleaner, laundry  detergent or other non-food items in their little cakeholes.  And we're pretty vigilant about it.
As they grow, they learn about how good food can taste.
And how it compares with other food items.
Our three-year-old daughter is all too well familiar with this.
And how to work it.
"My belly's all filled up", she says, often after only a couple of bites from her meal.
But then she'll say she wants a snack less than a half hour later.
"Hungwy" she says in her little voice.
My wife I would never feed our daughter anything that we wouldn't eat ourselves.  We made this a solemn vow to her.
Having grown up in a somewhat "economically challenged" household in the 70s and 80s, I had to suffer through the occasional dinner fare of liver, squash, zucchini and eggplant, despite my mother's best culinary efforts to disguise it.
I had no problem with spaghetti or grilled cheese with the key ingredient from a food bank.
But I particularly hated liver.  It was the most disgusting meal on the planet.  I would have preferred to go to bed hungry, but that was an option I was not afforded.
My dad feighned surprise when he learned after I was an adult, how much I hated it?
"Really?" he'd say.  "I like it...it's good."
Uh, Dad...not once did I ever see you at the dinner table when liver was served.  You conveniently had someplace else to be that night.  Probably in the parking lot of McDonald's, laughing it up.
Margie plans the meals in our house, with the exception of three days out of the week.  Either I bring it home, I take the family out, or I put the apron on.  Whatever the case, it's my worry.
But when I do cook, I do try to follow my wife's example and keep things as healthy as possible.
We very rarely eat red meat anymore.  Most of our dishes are chicken-based, breads are either wheat or whole-grain, milk is lowfat, pasta is wholegrain when we can get it, and we buy veggies from farmers' markets.
If I get overly creative in the kitchen, where I want to make more adult dishes like coq au vin, beef stroganoff, or shrimp fettucine alfredo (my wife's favorite), I'll defer to my daughter and prepare her a hot dog or some chicken nuggets.
But despite our best efforts, our daughter affords little room in her belly for the good stuff, but for treats and sweeter stuff like yogurt, applesauce, or cheese or breads.  Though we sometimes succeed in getting her to try new things, she will occasionally decide to spit out onto her plate what she ate without a problem just a few days ago, and proclaim "I don't like it."
"You ate it fine last week."
Doesn't matter.
But lately, we've been cracking down.
What she has in front of her is what she gets for dinner, period.
And sometimes she needs her fork reloaded after each bite to remind her she's not done.
It often takes time, but eventually it gets done.
Most of the time, it's outside distractions that hamper her eating habits.
Those often result in time-outs or her spending her meal strapped in her baby booster seat, which she's come to hate.
And it has been getting better.
She's come to realize the family kitchen is not an open-all-night restaurant, and that "hungwy" uttered right before bedtime has been formally recognized as a Savannah Stall Tactic.
Never in a million years did I ever realize what an effort staying ahead of your child is.
And that it never seems to cease.


NEXT WEEK:  Remembering RIF

Network Affiliation

In the broadcasting business, most radio and television stations are affiliated with major networks.
CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN, AP, just to name a few.
At the radio station where I work, we're proud affiliates of CBS and MSNBC.
People can also be affiliated as well.
You may often hear this associated with religion.
According to The Pew Research Center, the number of people in this country who call themselves 'non-religious' has been estimated at 20 percent.
That statistic is alarming.
Religious is classified as a belief in a Supreme being and attending church on a regular basis, though not a "Bible-beater" per se.
Pew took the time to break this 20 percent figure down into subgroups, with only a third of them identifying as 'atheist' or 'agnostic' with the remaining holding some kind of belief in God, yet don't identify as being part of any organized religion in particular, and don't attend church regularly, if at all.
Even more alarming is the survey revealed that that statistic was only at 15 percent five years ago.  At that rate, the number could climb even higher.
I self-identify as a Christian when asked, but don't wear it on my sleeve.  I like to keep my relationship with God an intimate one.  We as a family belong to Glade Run Presbyterian Church, but I myself have been a Roman Catholic since baptism.
For a time, I renounced my Catholic faith, but came back to it as I got older.
It's not something you can easily walk away from, as I've found out.
I never became a confirmed Catholic in my early teens because my parents were going through a divorce at the time, and my Catechism studies were interrupted.
Over the years, I always regretted not getting confirmed.  So at the age of 38, I finally asked the religious education director at my church what I would have to do in order to make it happen.  There was a problem, though...I couldn't attend Sunday morning classes due to my work obligations.
They gave me a book and told me to study it.
I did.  A few months later, I took the name 'Michael' in honor of my paternal grandfather as I received the blessing from the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh.
Don't get me wrong.  I have friends who are atheist and agnostic who are fine people.  A couple even send their kids to Sunday school.
Yes, they're aware of the irony.
They say it's because they want their child to learn the value system often found in Christian teaching, and then once their child comes of age, they can decide whether or not they want to believe.
If you don't think it can happen, don't forget about Kirk Cameron.
The 80's teen heartthrob from ABC's "Growing Pains" was raised in a non-Christian household, even claiming to be an atheist in his early teens, but underwent a spiritual conversion that eventually affected his relationships with his fellow cast members on the show, as well as the show's writers.
While Kirk was a bit overzealous in his beliefs, I still find it impressive for someone to find faith where there had once been none.
But I am concerned that our country will one day be led by the faithless, and it will have an negative impact on our society in a bigger way than we're experiencing now.
My former boss, Stuart W. Epperson of Salem Communications (licensee of WORD-FM and WPIT-AM in the Pittsburgh area, plus many other stations) said it best in an interview with Mother Jones magazine:
"When you secularize a culture, you lose your moral compass."
Secularizing an individual or group is one thing.  An entire culture is another.
Atheism has been around forever.  However, groups and individuals advocating it have been becoming more and more vocal about it.
The point of this is, whether you are a Christian or non-Christian, teach your children the values you would want them to learn, regardless of your belief structure.  Because they still hold true today.
It doesn't have to be about going to Heaven.  But it can be about contributing something positive to the world all of us will one day leave behind.


NEXT WEEK:  Cook's choice

Get the Potty Started

One of the most frustrating things a parent can ever experience is the potty-training of their child.
Some don't take long at all, while others take longer.
It can be especially frustrating if you're a 'newbie' parent still getting the hang of things with an only child.
My wife and I are certainly no exception.
Our potty training efforts with our daughter began before she turned two.  We incentivized it with treats, and even a return trip to Splash Lagoon, an indoor water park about an hour and a half away in Erie, Pennsylvania.
The Splash Lagoon trip was especially fun.  With every successful attempt, she earned her way towards a letter that, with others, would ultimately spell out "SPLASH LAGOON".
We got about as far as "SPLASH LAG".
While it helped her get "Number One" down pat, and ultimately moving her from Pull-Ups to big-girl undies, we were still struggling with "Number Two".
Despite our best efforts, we could not get her to go "on time".  That is, getting her to tell us she had to go before she "went".
"Savannah, do you have to go potty?"
"No, I just went (in my pants)."
Makes the blood boil.
I once read in a Calvin and Hobbes book that being a parent makes you want to hug and strangle your kid at the same time.
Sometimes a change in venue might do the trick.
Our annual vacation to Hilton Head Island was the perfect opportunity.
We had warned her before that if she pooped in the pool at our condo, that she would not be able to go swimming again.
She wasn't too happy with that.
Especially in a place where she could swim any day she wanted, for as long as she wanted.
After we made it to the condo, we took her to the pool.
Then it came.
"I GOTTA GO POTTY!"
With the speed of Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to the Bat-poles, Margie yanked Savannah from the pool and towards the bath house.  I kept an eye on them both.
Almost made it.  Down her leg and onto the sidewalk.
After Margie and Savannah failed to emerge from the bath house after a few minutes, I went up to investigate.
And after I made a visual confirmation, I knocked on the women's lavatory door.
Margie poked her head out.
"Did she go?" I asked.
Margie shook her head.
"She says she did, but I couldn't see anything."
After I relayed what had happened, Margie apologized to Savannah for doubting her.
From that point on, it was all downhill.
When she says she's gotta go, she's gotta go.
And now, every day when she does go, she reminds us of our promise.
"I get to go to Splash Lagoon!"
Lest we forget.



NEXT WEEK:  Affiliations

A Griswold Vacation

2012...the year of the Griswold.
Just recently I had addressed a local vacation effort with possible Griswold potential, but eventually it worked itself out.
Then, on our recent trip to the sunbelt, we had a few Griswold-like episodes.
I'll at this point preface by saying no one died, lost their job, got robbed, wrecked their car, took someone hostage, blew $22,000 and some change at the casino, or got into some kind of misadventure with a black sheep member of the family.
Nonetheless, I did wonder at one point if I was setting myself up for a fall.
Like Chevy Chase's signature movie role, I want my family to have a fun, old-fashioned family vacation, but I'm not overzealous about it.  That trait alone, as I've come to learn, is the key ingredient in a recipe for disaster.
We planned to leave a little earlier than our usual this year.  We decided to leave the afternoon of Thursday, September 20th, after we both left work early, so we could make a couple stops along the way and see some sights before reaching our zenith...Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.
My wife's parents own a condo there, and rent it out to tourists.  And they're kind enough to give us free use of it one week out of the year.
We decided to leave in the late afternoon and stay in southern West Virginia that first night.
Our departure turned out to be a little later than anticipated, but we got on the road a little after 6pm.
No sooner did we pull out of the driveway than the front end of the Jeep began to shimmy and a dragging sound was heard.
The shimmy was nothing new.  I had discovered a broken belt in one of the tires a month ago and after a quick tire rotation, the problem was solved.
But what now?
We pulled the Jeep over to a safe area.  I saw one end of the steering stabilizer on the ground.
For those of you who don't speak motorhead, that's the shock-absorber thingy that stretches from one wheel to another along the front axle that you find on most light-duty trucks and SUV's.
I noticed that the bolt supporting the stabilizer in its proper place was missing the nut.
Get it back home, I told my wife.  I can fix it quickly.
She was ready to pack it in and wait until the morning.
But I'm a little more stubborn than that.
We limped the Jeep back home a mile away.  I jumped in my truck and headed to our local hardware store about five miles down the road.  The clock was ticking, as it was approaching closing time.
There was a reason I had done business there for years.  They immediately helped me.
Eighty-five cents and less than five minutes later, I was on my way home.
Strange how such a small part can wreak so much havoc.
Margie kept our daughter busy with a movie in her portable DVD player we set up for her in the back seat.
Ten minutes later, I had the stabilizer repaired and we were back on the road.
No more debacles until we reached Hilton Head.
The first came when I took my family to the Wild Wing Cafe for dinner Sunday night.
Amid some confusion with a drippy A/C unit above our table, my debit card somehow got left behind.  I did not discover it until the following morning, when we got ready to take our bike ride to breakfast.
Fortunately, I did have some cash, which saved us from having to wash dishes.
After a fruitless search, I called the restaurant to see if anyone had turned it in.  It had.  They still had it.  No problem.
Then on Thursday, the keys to the bicycle cable lock somehow got lost.
Calls to Bell and a trip to Wal-Mart and a bike dealer proved fruitless after a frantic search turned up nothing.
There was only one other option.  A trip to Lowe's...about 20 minutes away.
I held my breath as I took the pair of Kobalt bolt-cutters I had bought and cut through the lock's cable, as much as I hated to have to do it.
No more debacles for the rest of the trip, which officially ended Saturday, September 29th, when we pulled into the driveway.
If this is the closest I ever came to having a Griswold experience, I will die a happy man.


NEXT WEEK:   Potty Party