Picky Eating Was a Struggle We Couldn’t Afford
By: Jonita Davis
Tags: Poverty, Eating, Family, Parenting, Food

Picky Eating Was a Struggle We Couldn’t Afford

When you’re barely making ends meet, a toddler’s refusal to eat anything but fast food becomes a real hardship.

Photo: Basak Gurbuz Derman/Getty Images

Today, my daughter is living on her own at college, so what she does or doesn’t eat barely crosses my mind. But 18 years ago, when she was a toddler, it was all I could think about.

I was in college and working the occasional odd job to stay afloat. Her dad was a daytime security guard at a manufacturing plant and busboy/barback on nights and weekends. It took everything we earned to pay the bills, which didn’t leave much left for food. Fortunately, having grown up with little means, I’d learn some tricks to stretch a dollar. Each week, we managed to feed our family for under $50.

Low-cost meals that made enough to serve our family of four were in heavy rotation (think: casseroles, spaghetti with meat sauce, chili, and meatloaf). Breakfast was cereal and instant oatmeal. We received WIC, which helped with the milk, eggs, and cereal. Juice, too. The WIC appointments also served another purpose. They allowed us time with a nutritionist, where I learned about the food groups, the information I used when preparing our meals.

This all worked well until my daughter turned three and stopped eating.

It wasn’t an instant refusal. She started by leaving food behind on the plate. She’d eat a portion of the meal and spend the rest of dinner moving the remains around until her plate resembled a gross rendition of “The Scream.” Then, her eating dwindled to a few bites before she’d announce, “I’m done!” Soon, she wouldn’t touch her food at all.

“Mommy, me want some nuggets,” she would say. Or sometimes she’d request pizza or donuts. No demands, just an innocent plea. Even though I knew these foods weren’t the healthiest, I would have capitulated had our circumstances been different. Anything to get her to eat.

What she didn’t know was that the $3 it would cost for a box of nuggets posed an actual hardship. We barely had enough money left after food shopping for gas. I already skipped class sometimes to save the gas for my husband’s commute. At the time, that $3 was a few gallons of gas, or two days worth of getting to and from work. The price of a whole pizza could buy the half-tank that would get us through the week. We couldn’t sacrifice that for food that, let’s face it, there was no guarantee she’d eat.

I would tell my daughter no and would urge her to eat what I was serving. She would look down at the plate and back up at me. “No! Nuggets!” she’d cry.

After she went two days without eating, the tears were mine.

It’s hard to go on with life as usual when your toddler stops eating. Now, she didn’t refuse every meal. She’d occasionally eat a bite or two before again requesting something we couldn’t afford. But in my eyes, it didn’t seem like nearly enough food to sustain a toddler.

Despite the fact that her energy remained undaunted, I was concerned she was battling a food allergy or another illness. Urgent care would incur a bill, however, so I waited and worried and watched her until I could see the nutritionist at the WIC office.

The first thing the nutritionist told me was that toddlers go through growth spurts. I learned that once a growth spurt tapers off, so can a toddler’s appetite. She followed it up by reassuring me that she will eat what her body needs. I just needed to provide the fuel to keep my kids going. She also told me about watching the toddler’s bathroom habits to be sure things were moving along. Otherwise, she was a healthy child.

I couldn’t believe that I worried for weeks about my kid dying because I couldn’t afford chicken nuggets. It was just a growth spurt and normal toddler behavior. Nothing more.

We spent the rest of the visit going over the food charts and discussing carbs and proteins and toddler bodies. That night, I revamped the way that I prepared foods to add more choices on the plate without adding to the cost of the meat. I made chicken pot pie that covered the veggie and protein servings she needed. I also added a side of the green beans she occasionally liked and apple crisp to give the family their fruit and grain servings. My daughter ate two green beans and the top of her crisp before saying “I’m done!”

Another lesson I learned was that I was giving her too much food. The nutritionist told me that toddlers only needed a few tablespoons of each item. My husband measured the portions out with an actual tablespoon, and we were shocked at her plate looked. But, when she ate the two green beans and the top of the crisp, her plate was half empty. It was progress. Each day, the sight of her eating — no matter how little — comforted me. (Although her grandparents indulged her requests for fast food when they took her out after church every week.)

Eventually, my daughter started eating regular portions. Our family grew to include six kids and our budget grew as well. My husband and I became more financially stable, but our problems with picky toddlers have resurfaced. Our youngest is currently three years old and has entered her own picky-eating phase.

This time around though, seeing a full picked over plate is not stressful. I just remind myself of the lessons I learned all those years ago. No drama. No fights. I know my toddler will get the food she needs as she needs it. She will not waste away. She is happy and healthy.

I still say no when she says, “me want nuggets,” with her arms crossed over her dinner plate. We can afford the meal now, but now the nutrition trade-off isn’t worth it.

I thought back to these days as I looked into my college-aged daughter’s cabinets recently. They were nearly bare, save pantry staples, cereal, and ramen. The fridge had a few drinks, condiments, and almond milk. But I didn’t worry that she’d stopped eating again. I know she’s just a busy student who works to supplement her financial aid — aid that affords her what we couldn’t give her in her toddlerhood.

When I asked about her sparse pantry, she simply responded, “I’ll just order out.”