When your child is on a special diet--and frankly, any diet that contains no processed foods is a special diet in most public schools--it is important to get into the right mind set. We first began this journey in response to the children's digestive and behavioral issues: At ages two and four, one used to rock herself for hours, while the other went all glassy-eyed and banged her head on the floor. In desperation I tried an elimination diet, and as soon as I removed wheat, things improved markedly. Removing wheat took away one layer of interference, making it easier to identify the next thing, which was corn. It took a couple years to get it right, and we made plenty of mistakes. The biggest mistake was to feel sorry for ourselves.
After about a year of diet modification, the kids began to have a "poor me" attitude about food, and the food other kids had looked desirable. It was compounded by the fact that other people also felt sorry for them, like they were being deprived. That is when I began a campaign to turn our mindset around.
The very first thing was to help the kids understand what we were doing. I tried to make it clear that I was giving them the very best materials they would need while they were growing their bodies. We talked about their great-grandmother who grew up on a farm eating nutrient-dense foods; now she eats mostly processed food, but because she grew up eating well, it gave her good health for most of her life. I also pointed out how many children have families that do not know how to cook, and who never get to eat food made with love. We made a point to frequent small mom-and-pop eateries where food was made from scratch, and went to lots of potlucks with others who liked to cook. In this way, the children got the idea that home-cooked food equals love. I also taught them to cook simple dishes so that they had power over food. Eventually, they came to see that, rather than being denied something, they were being given an incredible gift. Their "special" diet truly was special!
Their first school experience was the Friends Western School in Pasadena where they learned to get along with others, and were exposed to different, but mostly wholesome, lunches. Still, it was a struggle keeping the kids from eating wheat or corn from other people's lunches. That's when we got our first bentos, and that's where I came up with the next part of my "special lunch" philosophy: Not only should your child want to eat it, but other children at the table should want to eat it, too. Psychologically, that puts your child at a huge advantage. They get less hassle about what they're eating and are more able to deal with the questions and the inevitable amount of teasing. When other kids admire or even want to sample their lunch, they are empowered, instead of victimized, by their special diet. There is a huge difference between "I can't eat that" and "I get to eat this."
Now the kids are older, and we have moved to a small town. We have had to take the bento up a notch: I pack more food, and it has to look better, because peer pressure is a very real thing in third grade and beyond. Not only that, but in our small town the food my children eat seems even more strange. In Southern California, no one would look twice at jicama, but during La Segunda's first month of school here, a child asked her, "What's that in your lunch?" It was an orange cut into quarters. The child had only ever eaten canned oranges. So be sure to pack enough to share. (It's not allowed at our school, but the kids do it anyway.) That helps pave the way for the notion that food can be made from scratch.
Sometimes after watching a movie like "Supersize Me" or "Food Inc," the children will come home and make fun of the fact that so-and-so was eating Lunchables, or had nothing but candy and cookies in their lunch. I realize that, to some extent, it is to help themselves feel better about being "different." But it's important to point out that the other kids or their parents just don't know about food, that across the USA there are children whose parents and even grandparents grew up eating packaged food and do not know how to cook. I observe how lucky we were to have had food issues that led us to cook everything ourselves, and mention that their schoolmates probably know about lots of things that we are ignorant about. At this point we talk about what other kids or their parents are good at. Eventually that degenerates into "who is the best at belching sentences," but the point is well taken.
On the positive side, my children are ambassadors of good food. They have displayed and even sampled out such heretofore unknown comestibles as turnips, nori, Jerusalem artichokes, and mango. Many children do admire their lunches, and some lunch monitors make a point of checking it out. Their friends have been known to go home and ask their parents if they can have broccoli or cherry tomatoes in their lunch, too. Children are often amazed at the marvels that can be made by a brilliant chef such as myself. Just last week, I heard that I am known as a genius because I can make gelatin from scratch. Seriously. In a world where oranges are unrecognizable and gelatin is beyond the skill of mere mortals, it does not take much to impress. Yes, they still get teased, and they still sometimes bring lunch home uneaten, but with the right PR behind you, wholesome leftovers artfully arranged in a box can improve many lives for the better.
No comments:
Post a Comment