It's not about the Broccoli

The very first (and so far, most read overall) post in this blog was about parenting. For some, this seems to be a no-go subject, and in my excitement about it, I'm sure I bombarded a few unwitting new parents a few years ago! These days, with baby and toddler groups behind me, I've also learned to wait for invitations for such conversations. However, since you can anonymously choose whether or not to read on, and some of the principles might well apply more widely in life, this may be a good place to offer a few more thoughts. Having only been a mum for 11 short years, there are many more qualified than me to advise, but that isn't my intention here.

A few years ago, the title of this post was a kind of summary phrase that my husband and I would say to one another in parenting challenges. When our boys were about 6 and 5, at the table one mealtime, one of them suddenly said, with no sarcasm at all, "Mmm, I love broccoli." I can't even be sure which child it was, but I do remember my husband and I staring at each other, shaking our heads and half-laughing in disbelief. For a season in the life of each boy, broccoli triggered so much mealtime angst. On those days when we felt we could absorb the hassle, a tiny little sprig would go in their portion and we'd prepare for a meltdown or a stand-off. Two brothers. Two unique human beings. Two vastly different approaches to resisting particular foods. Having endured countless rounds of cajoling, building forkfuls, and negotiating with dessert items, that day confirmed what we had instinctively known all along: it's not about the broccoli!

Parenting can involve feelings of huge inadequacy. In the early days and weeks, I struggled with failure to meet my own unrealistic standards. If baby wouldn't settle after I'd implemented every method set out in a parenting book, I figured I must have done something wrong. On occasions, as Daddy walked or drove until the fully fed, thoroughly burped, clean bottomed screamer was sound asleep, this mummy cried at home and called herself a cop-out. Sometimes I sobbed down the phone to my own mum, who gently said one day, "Remember Tina, the baby hasn't read the book." Once, when receiving a groceries delivery, I felt the need to explain that the jars of baby food were not the norm, and were for taking on holiday!

I write this, then, as a self-confessed stress-head mum who has had to mellow a lot. Having intended never to use one, second time around I had a dummy packed in the hospital bag. At some point we discovered an amazing device that automatically 'rocked' a buggy or car seat. Coupled with the vibrate feature on a bouncer chair, this could send baby no. 2 to sleep from the height of screaming, on those days (or rather, nights!) when nothing else seemed to work. I don't mean to suggest that routine doesn't matter, or that short term gain is generally the best choice, I'm just suggesting that parenting 'by the book' might not account for babies being human.

What, then, is the principle of, "it's not about the broccoli?" It's our way, by coining a phrase that links back to that funny, unexpected tea-table moment, of acknowledging that parenting struggles very often represent something other than whatever the tussle is focused on. That dreaded green thing in the gravy may well become a favourite vegetable. This doesn't mean that the broccoli battle doesn't matter, but that whilst it will pass, is an opportunity to build foundations that are far more important than the particular issue at hand.

In our culture, freedom is highly valued, but in my view, often misunderstood as boundary-less-ness. That which may be seen as restrictive actually creates safety. A toddler can roam freely in a robustly fenced garden, but needs some form of physical restraint to walk safely beside a road until they've proved themselves mature enough to go without it. The security that children need to grow and flourish in is largely provided by structures of loving discipline. The foundation of these is established even before their language is developed, when food and sleep are two of their main means of asserting themselves.

I've come to realise that much of parenting is about disciplining myself. In those battles over eating, staying in bed, being strapped into a buggy, or whatever the thing of the moment, am I prepared to stick with what I've set out, to be clear and consistent, so that the child can be confident that I am trustworthy? At times, it's exhausting. On the food front, some days it's good just to serve something that will be happily received—yes, maybe out of a jar!—and save your energy for putting a little someone back in bed until they stop getting back out. I'm convinced, though, that it's possible to train a child's attitude toward you—and security with you for when bigger and bigger issues arise—by holding the line on relatively tiny things. If in their world at that moment refusing broccoli is worth a meltdown or a stand-off, the learning potential that it holds may be well worth the pain of them missing out on dessert.⬦

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