Category: Emily is neurotic

Ok so I’m trying to figure out how to write this post without seeming like a neurotic, germaphobic snob or just a complete nut job. It turns out, I can’t.

But unfortunately for all of us, that’s not going to stop me.

Here’s the thing. Tonight we went to a potluck dinner, and I’ve just got to say…

Potlucks skeeve me out.

They sound like a good idea in theory – we each bring one thing, it’s not too hard on anyone, everyone’s happy.

In practice, however, they really don’t work out that well. Take, for example, what my family ate tonight. Andy had a plate full of assorted food that included chicken & noodles, asian cole slaw salad, cubes of cheese, and shrimp cocktail. Sammy ate a piece of cheese pizza, half a peanut butter and jelly, baked beans and a chocolate chip cookie (the most normal out of any of us). Kate ate a spoonful of sloppy joe without a bun and a cupcake, and I ate a chicken leg.

Because potlucks? They’re random food made by random people.

As you may have noticed, it’s not that I have a problem eating food prepared by others (in fact, that’s how I prefer it).

It’s not even that I’m opposed to the 16 variations of green bean casserole or endless dishes of that hash brown/sour cream/potato chip concoction. I actually am a big fan of those things and many other white trash delicacies as well.

But when they’re piled on a picnic table and their origin is unknown…

Well, I eat a chicken leg.

Because, like I said, potlucks skeeve me out.

I know the box of KFC is much more likely to contain spit and/or other bodily fluids than the food lovingly prepared by moms much more domestic and talented than me, yet somehow the luke warm Original Recipe seems like the safest choice.

I don’t know what it is.

Actually, I do know what it is. It’s random food made by random people.

It weirds me out.

Now, since I ate a measly chicken leg for dinner, I’m going to go order a pizza. Because dough kneaded by pimply teenagers is MUCH MORE APPEALING than a crock pot full of meatballs.

So here it is, April 14th. Our federal and state taxes have been done for months. Our refund is sitting happily in our savings account (after being unhappily held in the IRS “error resolution department” for a month). Even our school district taxes are taken care of.

However, it wasn’t until I logged onto Facebook and saw a friend’s status update regarding her local taxes that those even crossed my mind.

As I wrote about last year, I have a long and sordid history with local taxes.

To make a long story short, I never remember to pay them. You’d think after paying for about six years all at once and even blogging about it last year, I would have had it taken care of by now, but nope… haven’t even started.

The stupid part about this is that for whatever reason the local tax form confounds me. I don’t know how a one-page document can be so complicated, but it is.

I guess I know what I’m doing tonight! Sorry, Kate, your homework is going to have to wait til tomorrow.

One night last week, Kate and I had a very difficult time during dinner. I’ll spare you the details (something new looks “yucky” even thought it’s pasta and frickin’ hamburger) because I’m sure you’ve seen it before, but it left her in tears and left me feeling defeated.

“The last thing in the entire world I want to fight with her about is food,” I told Andy. I’ve struggled with food weirdness for what seems like my entire life, and since the moment Kate was born I’ve been terrified of passing that onto her.

That very night I got an email from Weight Watchers asking if I’d be interested in taking a look at “Eat! Move! Play!,” their new book about healthy habits for the whole family. The email said the book contained interactive worksheets, tips, easy-to-follow steps and kid-friendly recipes to encourage a healthy lifestyle for kids and parents alike.

I felt like the stars had aligned.

As you may remember, I joined Weight Watchers in September as a part of their “Lose for Good” campaign. From September to December, I lost 17 pounds, and I became a lifetime Weight Watchers member in January.

It truly changed my life.

Besides the weight loss (which was obviously a nice side effect), Weight Watchers taught me how to eat and how to view food. For the first time I could remember, I felt in control of what I ate and I didn’t feel the crippling guilt of over-indulging. It was amazing.

So. Back to the subject at hand. Given my love for and loyalty to Weight Watchers and coming off what had been a quasi-traumatic dinner, I was very relieved to have the opportunity to read this book.

I’m still working my way through it, but what I’ve read so far is great. They give real-life, applicable tips that are easy to implement. Of course, I immediately flipped to the section on picky eaters. (In Kate’s defense, the girl comes by it honestly. I am not the most, ahem, adventurous eater in the world). The advice in the book was so simple, yet so effective.

Our responsibility, as parents, is to provide our kids with the opportunity to eat healthy and nutritious meals and snacks. Their job is to eat it. Or not. Either way is ok – they need to be in control. And really, isn’t being in control of their eating what we want for our kids, especially when we’re not around? Kate asked me recently if it was ok that she was full. That was a big red flag for me because I don’t want her to stop listening to her body and to eat just to eat until it’s gone (you know, the way I do). So, based on the recommendations in the book, here’s our new plan. Andy and I will give the kids their dinner – they can eat as much (or as little) as they want. After that, if they’re still hungry, they can eat whatever they want from the big fruit bowl on the counter (which I will have to faithfully keep stocked).

So simple. No fighting, no “How many more bites do I have to eat??” Just peaceful dinners. Amen.

I’ll let you know how it goes.