Van Halen

I'm getting heavier.

In the first month or so after the lay-off, I was losing weight because I was getting to the gym five times a week, and me and the wee ones played outside a lot.

Well, my body got used to the extra exercise, and while some of the 10-poundage I've added is muscle, because I've been lifting weights for the first time in years, the rest is good old-fashioned blubber. Another factor is that I don't have the motivation of swimming pool appearances anymore. Oh, and I don't even try to let the kids have all the Halloween candy; I've snagged most of the best mini-bars (Nestle Crunch, Snickers, Hersheys), you know, to spare their teeth.

Above all, though, having little kids is the difference between being 212 pounds and 200. I cannot waste food, and they don't eat all of theirs. This equals me eating more than I should and things I would not choose for myself.

When it was just Connor, we named me The Vulture, circling as he neared the end of his meals, then landing and tearing at the leftovers. That was just one kid, though. He, at 9 years old and 100 pounds, finishes all his food now and asks for more. Four-year-old Maggie mostly cleans her plate, too.

The 2-year-old twins, though, will be the big-rear-end of me. Like most parents I will err on the side of making more than less, so more food will be ready in case they want it; we all want them to have good appetites and chow down. Until they pack it away, though, there are leftovers, and I'm the only one who a) has a problem wasting food; b) isn't disgusted by food with teethmarks (hey, they're my flesh and blood's teeth).

Unfortunately, there are only two foods we make or buy for them that I can't stomach--cream cheese and yogurt. They typically finish all yogurt--I push half-eaten cups on them, and Target's cups are best, because they have a lid you can put back on.

When Darcy and/or Gavin ask for bagels and cream cheese, though, I get worked up: first off, you have to make sure they don't just lick that nasty white substance--no, bite it, watch Maggie, see she bites it! Second, they're still not able to finish even a half bagel. I won't eat the rest, because it's gross, and Carrie and Connor and Maggie won't, because they think half-eaten food is untouchable.

The main problem then is that there are plenty of foods I will finish: chicken nuggets, peanut-butter and honey/jelly sandwiches, homemade quesadillas (with cheddar, so good), french fries, occasional fast-food burgers, grilled pork chops, ice cream (Darcy doesn't always finish her bowl--what's a guy to do?), cereal, mini-raviolis, waffles, eggs, sausage, toast.

Sure, I could store it and heat it up for them later, but I'm only human (more and more so), and eating is easier than putting it into Tupperware or bags. Most times I don't make a meal for myself, because I know there will be plenty to finish. Plus, since I wouldn't choose to eat what they want, I don't make something different for myself that I like because that's double the work.

Lest you think we're poisoning the little darlings, or malnourishing them, there is plenty of fruit and veggies that I have to finish. Just today, there are five half-eaten apples in the fridge--they're just too big for tiny tummies to finish. Some days I'll get fed up with such a display and eat five orange slices, two half-eaten apples and half-eaten pear, whatever the mix is. Seems healthy, but if you ate 100 pounds of fruit, it would still be 100 pounds.

The only solutions are: make less per meal, change exercise routines, store and re-heat, force feed. All but the last one are better than throwing away food. I'll start with the first and second before trying the third. The fourth will be on a case-by case, mood-dependent basis.

Manja!