Feeding the Wee Beasties

It would seem Her Majesty is nearly 100% - while she still has an impressive cough and the nasal runs her appetite is back and she's tearing about the house again. I've kept her home from preschool today, however, as she has swimming and Sparky's football training to get through and I don't need another meltdown like I had at training Tuesday night. Clive had a good night's sleep last night, his first since Sunday, and his fever seems to be over. His appetite is coming back as well - he's had a banana and is now working on a muesli bar. Like his sister, still has the drippy nose and a cough but is hopefully on the mend as well.

A good barometer as to how my youngest two are doing are their appetites. Her Majesty and Clive eat a lot. Actually, I think that may be something of an understatement. The woman who runs the canteen at football calls them the profit margins. With the exception of said canteen and McDonalds, their tastes run to the healthier side of life. Good thing, or they'd both be little butterballs.

Let's take Her Majesty, as she is the one who surprises everyone with her appetite. Whether it's because she's a girl or she's on the smaller side, or both, I'm not sure. For breakfast she'll usually eat a couple of apples, or an entire bagel with cream cheese, or a couple of peanut butter sandwiches (with the crust cut off, of course). From then she's usually asking for something to eat every 45 minutes to an hour. Rice crackers. Watermelon - this is a favourite and she'll eat giant pieces in one sitting. Sandwiches. Carrots. Bananas. Lunch is usually a sandwich, if that hasn't been breakfast or a snack, and some fruit. The afternoon pattern is much the same as the morning one. The one meal she doesn't eat often is dinner. Her appetite seems to shut down around 6pm, although if it's something she really enjoys she will eat. Often the only thing she wants is a bowl of frozen carrots. Yes, she prefers them frozen. The exception to the not eating dinner rule is football training nights. A couple of sausages on bread, or a sausage and a hot dog, is not unusual. Even on Thursdays when I take them to McDonalds in between swimming lessons and football she will eat a Happy Meal, substituting the apples slices for the fries, and still want a sausage once we get to training.

I don't force her to eat what the rest of us are having, although if she refuses dinner altogether but later wants dessert I will say no. If you have room for sweet stuff, you have room for healthy stuff. And when she asks for something and doesn't finish it, yet wants something else not long after I will again say no. The vast majority of the time, however, what she requests gets eaten.

Clive isn't too far behind, although he has inherited more of the sweet tooth - to be fair from both sides of the family - than Her Majesty. He's happier chomping on a chocolate chip cookie, although I do try and steer him to the gingernut ones. He's also more likely not to finish, although that has more to do with his age - being distracted and dropping whatever he has in his hand. The two of them at mealtimes, however, are dangerous. They will easily polish off a 800 gram (that's 1.76 pounds) of tinned fruit or an entire slab of watermelon.

The scariest part is they're not overly big. Clive is deceptive as he's got this massive block of a head (if you saw pictures of a couple of my nephews, or even the Hermit's melon, you'd know it's inherited and not medical) but in reality he only weighs just under 12 kilos, or roughly 25 pounds, which is normal for a 1 year old. I still have to fold the waistband of a lot of his pants over so they don't slide down or he trips over them. Her Majesty has had a growth spurt recently, but as she approaches age 5 her size 4 clothes fit her quite nicely; most of her size 5 pants are too long. She's not stick skinny - indeed she's quite solid - but she clocks in at just over 18 kilos, or 40 pounds.

So where's the scary part? All that energy they take in when they eat is being spent right away. Not put away for growth, not stored as fat... spent as energy. They go-go-go from the minute they wake up, or in Her Majesty's case the second she's up, until they crash at night. Clive still has a nap, but Her Majesty gave those up long ago. In fact her biggest complaint about kindy is rest time. Quiet activities just don't exist in our house. If you can get Her Majesty to sit still, she'll talk your ear off whilst doing so. And Clive just doesn't sit still, full stop. If I had half their metabolism I'd be a size 6!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have hungry mouths to feed... again.