Feed Me…

Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to have kids. Don’t worry, I’m joking… mostly. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a kernel of truth to the implication that life would be easier without them. Eating well would certainly be easier, I’ll tell you that much. For some reason (now completely alien to me), I always imagined that when I had kids, I’d be healthier than ever, and that this would be effortless thanks to my inbuilt desire to set a good example. Little did I know how manipulative kids can be.

It’s like, you’re trying to put a nutritious breakfast on the table, taking into careful consideration the balance of macro and micro nutrients growing kids need to fuel their relentlessly active bodies – not to mention making it all a taste sensation they’ll actually want to eat. And then they come clomping in and demand some novelty cereal that barely qualifies as anything other than junk food, which they saw on the telly. Your thoughtfully prepared meal is disregarded, and your motivation to put in the effort goes out the window, along any hope of making yourself a low carb, high protein meal. Home delivery pizza, anyone?

I’m hoping it’s just the fact that the kids are aged 2, 5 and 7 respectively – all somewhat challenging ages. The real problem is finding the wherewithal to feed myself properly – parents need macro and micro nutrients too, you know. It’s so hard to keep track of that, and portion control is a whole other story. I wish someone would make meals for me, taking care of nutritional balance and calorie content. Maybe I should sign up for one of those diet food delivery services. I never thought I’d be the type, but hey – I never thought I’d be the type to furtively spoon choc-hazelnut spread straight from the jar at 6:30am out of sheer sleep deprivation, either.