Finicky Files

The Finicky Files – It’s Not Just My Kids

While far too often it feels like I am on a deserted island, surrounded by only my picky eaters, I have come to the realization that I am not alone. Far from it. And so I am happy to present the first in what will hopefully be an occasional series…

The Finicky Files – Truth is Stronger than Fiction

When Clare was not quite three, and her pickiness was still building to a crescendo, the three of us attended a 30th birthday party for a good friend. This was my kind of party, wherein the friend’s wife opted to celebrate with a small gathering of family and friends…

The Finicky Files – Diabetes…

Diabetes down the road? This morning I held Danny steady and sang “You Are My Sunshine” to him while the nurse drew three vials of blood. We’ve been doing this quarterly since he was…

The Finicky Files – Snacktime Smackdown

I’m writing this when the last thing in the world I feel like doing is cooking for my children. It’s been a long week of rejected meal after rejected meal, coupled with a husband working late hours…

The Finicky Files – If she makes it, will she eat?

I thought I was so clever. Clare is such a bookworm, and this time of year we really enjoy reading Pumpkin Soup, a charming story about three animal friends who make pumpkin soup every day. “A-ha!” thought I. While previous efforts to involve Clare in the cooking process have not produced positive results on the [...]

The Finicky Files – Date with a Dietitian

I’m fortunate in so many of my friendships for their support, fun … and opportunities to exploit their varying skills and professions. Of late, this is especially true of my dietitian friend, Allyson. Sure, there was that time we hit a late-night diner…

The Finicky Files – How evil is it to let your kid go to bed hungry?

Chicken. It’s not just what’s for dinner. It’s also what I am when it comes to serving said item to Clare. As far as she’s concerned, it’s a four-letter word. That is unless it’s in nugget form. It doesn’t take a nutrition degree to recognize that nuggets should not be the sole source of meat [...]

The Finicky Files Flip Open

I used to be a city mom. I used to live in the heart of Chicago, in a tiny condo surrounded by McMansions and nanny-ed young ones. At the time I had just one child, who grew into a solids-eating toddler while we lived a life of walking to the park or the lake or hopping on the L to see sights. During these halcyon days, my daughter ate a broad variety of things, regularly feasting on such international delicacies as pot stickers and falafel.