About a year ago, I started an excel spreadsheet with a tab for what meals we are going to eat and a tab for the corresponding shopping list. It's nerdy, but it keeps me from running out to the store three times a day or from eating the same thing every week. The only complicated thing about it is that it has a column for me and Ryan and another column for the kids. Gasp! I know...we don't eat dinner together and we don't eat the same thing. Take that Parenting Magazine!
Before Xavier was born I thought I would be mixing flax seed into organic goat yogurt and making elaborate kid-friendly vegetable dishes. Riiiight. My kids eat a diet of white rice, white pasta, white toast and milk. (Although they weirdly like salmon. Gag!) From my hushed conversations with other parents, it's safe to say that outside Park Slope, this is pretty typical. What's funny about it to me is that I don't care. I love food, new recipes, fresh spices, etc. so at first I found it strange that I was so unfazed by this behavior. Last night, as I was unpacking the lunch dishes full of their uneaten vegetables, I realized why. I care more about not wasting food than I do about what they actually eat. Cheapskate! If they aren't going to eat crunchy spring asparagus and marinated lamb, then I'm not going to waste it on them. So at 6 pm, the toddler dinner was served and eaten, and at 9 pm, Ryan and I sat down to this incredibly delicious, and surprisingly easy to throw together, dish of lamb, pomegranate, pistachios and yogurt.
I know...I know. It's a vicious cycle. If I don't serve it, they won't learn to learn to like it until they are ancient. But in the meantime, Ryan and I get all the leftovers.