Day 11: The end of all jokes...

I came across an interesting article today on called 'Don't Wear My Genes' by divaraven. This article really hit close to home because I had experienced something similar just this morning as we were getting ready for our day.It was a great article, although this sort of thing is not just for something of parents of little girls to look out for. 

Then as I'm reading the article, this ad shows up on the site:
Really? Walmart? Thanks for showing us that family moments consist of food that clog our arteries and make us all fat as I'm reading an article about a mother worrying that her child will end up fat.  Lovely.

EvilBoy has always been a chubby kid.  When he was a baby he had the biggest belly I have ever seen on a baby.  Ever.  He still holds that record.
Yes it was that big.

and it was all my fault. I was a new mom, and in my mind whenever he cried he was hungry.  So everytime he cried I fed him.

and I thought I was the best mom in the whole wide world.

and I also thought my baby was a rabid baby wolverine who needed to eat all the time.

In fact when I tried to breast feed him I gave up completely within the first few weeks, I was convinced he was a wild beast who had no patience for my inability to whip my boobies out within seconds. 

Until one day I took him to the doctor.  The doctor asked about his feeding schedule, and when I admitted that he really didn't have one and that he was hungry all the time, the doctor almost fell off his stool.

You feed that baby how often? He eats HOW much?

and then I was told to put my baby wolverine on a diet.  Sort of.

Apparently feeding a baby every time it cries is not the right thing to do.
How was I supposed to know?
Okay maybe I should have known. 
He was happy jolly.

He's always been cute and chubby. 

I like to worry.

I worry that his weight will become a health concern.
I worry that he will be made fun of.
I worry that he won't be happy.

and this morning the realization hit me like a stack of bricks.

He's not happy with himself.

and it's my fault.

We've always jokingly teased him about his pants not fitting.
We've poked fun saying that if he kept growing he would have to wear grandma's pants (she made that one up herself!).
We've made comments in front of him about how many pairs of pants he goes through because he grows out of them as fast as I can buy them for him.

He's a growing boy and I never realized just how much these comments really affected him until this morning.

He came to me to help him do up a button on his jeans, and of course they were a bit snug.

I laughed a little as I tugged on the material, trying to make ends meet and casually mentioned the pants being too small.

EvilBoy looked at me horrified, tore the material out of my hands and said they fit him fine and he stormed out.

Then I realized I'm a shitty parent.

How could I not notice these comments affected him.

How did I not notice his concern when the Wii Fit game we got recently said he was "overweight".

I never saw the hurt on his face when people made comments about how "big" he is or how his pants are too tight.

So now I work on damage control.

My child is not fat.
My child is not big.
He's not overweight.

He's loved.
He's got a big heart.
He's going to be more active and eat healthier.

and his pants will fit just fine, even if he has to "suck it in", there will be no comments from now on and certainly no more jokes.

Share this:


Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?


Post a Comment