I have always referred to my penis people as my “little birds”. They eat tiny amounts of food that I must force down their gullet and they squawk when I insist they eat more. The Dick’s family would be considered mostly fluffy in size, as is my own Italian family. Each of the families have vehemently insisted that I should just be grateful that they will never need to diet. However, being of that same wonderful Italian descent, I am what one friend affectionately refers to as a “food pusher”. Nothing makes me happier than to cook for and feed the people that I love (and sometimes, oddly, even people that I don’t particularly like very much). Ingrained in my psyche is this idea that food, and full bellies, equates love and happiness. So it pains me to watch my young penis people reject food. They aren’t picky eaters. They would quite literally eat dirt if I allowed it. They simply don’t have huge appetites. And no cajoling them, bribing them, punishing them will change that. They are happy little birds with the few morsels I will absolutely require at each meal. I’m by no means a member of the “clean plate” club. I don’t require them to eat EVERYTHING that is placed in front of them. I simply ask that they maintain enough calories to fuel their (always in motion) little bodies.

wpid-20140618_180854.jpg My oldest penis person, full of fun/crazy energy and sprinkled generously with ADHD, takes medication that helps his ADHD immensely but greatly diminishes his appetite. Under the watchful eye of both myself and his psychologist that specializes in ADHD, he gained merely ONE POUND in ONE YEAR. At nine years old, he can still wear a size 5T. He’s worn the same shorts for the past three summers. He is thin as a rail and expels those precious calories as quickly as he takes them in. His psychologist and I monitor his weight diligently, even going so far as to encourage what some would consider unhealthy snacks of cupcakes or cookies. He’s just that tiny little bird who will always BE my tiny little bird.

wpid-20140618_180807.jpg Wee penis person has type one diabetes. Diagnosed at only 3 years old, he is managing it well. And yet, his favorite game is to drive momma crazy refusing to eat. He is small as well. Being 4 years old now, he can still wear a size 2T. He will eat well sometimes, but mostly he takes a bite or two of each item offered and claims complete fullness. Positively maddening!

It baffles my mind. Both myself and my husband are proud chunky monkeys. Not incredibly unhealthy but WE LOVE FOOD. We embrace our fluffy selves whole heartedly and have no weird hang ups about food. How did our combined genetics morph into two penis people who balk at the idea of eating. Because they are my little birds. And they become very ANGRY BIRDS when I make them eat. When I count down with them how many bites they must take before we can consider their meal complete. I try NOT to put a lot of pressure on meals. But meals are important and food sustains you.

So tonight, I made home made mac and cheese. The good shit. Not the normal shit that comes out of a box that I make when I’m too tired to give a shit. And hot dogs. What kid DOESN’T like hot dogs. The little birds had just two minutes ago begun squawking about being SO hungry. Plates of food were issued, ready to be eaten. Normal dinner chit-chat ensued. Fart noises sprinkled about. Two bites in and both penis people declare done. Nope…..nope…..and uh wait….let me check….NOPE! I tell them that people are starving in the world and would kill their own granny for a morsel of this tasty meal. I instruct them that wasting food is NOT an option. Side your little behind down….pick up that damn fork….and EAT. What they heard in their minds is “Mommy is about to lose her shit AGAIN and its easier to just do what she asks then not….so we will eat…but we don’t have to be happy about it one bit”. Angry little birds……