Now that my blogging seems to be as much about parenting Harry as it does about food—though lord knows I do try to tip the scales in favor of food—I often ask myself if I’m writing things that will someday embarrass my son. As in, once he’s in junior high school and his pals Google his name just for fun. And here’s the thing: I think this post will probably make him cringe. I’m going to aim for euphemism as much as possible, but even that may not be enough. So Harry: I apologize. And Harry’s future friends: Move along. Nothing to see here.
My son is having some, uh, intestinal issues. You know, the kind that call for prunes and lots and lots of water? It’s breaking my heart to see him straining, actually crying from the pain. The first time it happened I tweeted for help—he was crying so hard I was truly scared, and the helplessness was killing me. I did get some helpful answers, and an appointment with Dr. Google (as well as a phone conversation with junior’s pediatrician) made it unanimous: Glycerin suppositories, people. Just think about that for a minute, what that requires a person to do… I did that. And it helped, for that particular day.
Problem is, lately Harry’s been such a toddleriffic young man that his diet has gone down the crapper. (Pardon me, couldn’t resist.) He’s not eating vegetables much—heck, at all, unless you count baby corn, corn on the cob, and the very occasional baby carrot. At breakfast he picks at Nutrigrain waffles and completely ignores Cheerios, so his whole grain intake is down, too. We still offer him a variety of healthy food every day, and like the book (Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Sense) says, let him decide how much and whether to eat. He’s still eating fruit—which until now has reassured me about his nutrition—but even that has slowed recently. And for some mysterious reason, even though it’s mid-summer he’s not drinking as much water as he used to. Hence the backup.
In an effort to get more fluids into him, we’ve given him popsicles aplenty and juice galore (normally he gets watered-down apple juice with meals, and that’s it). But today even that didn’t seem to be cutting it. Frankly, I think Harry senses our concern about his intake, and as any three-year-old would, is cutting back in defiance. Speaking to him about the necessity to increase his fluid & fiber intake has totally backfired—he’s now balking at prunes, which he used to consider “fruit candy”; there was a time when I’d have to restrict his prune intake for fear of, well, you know. Now, not so much.
Which brings us to today’s recipe. It occurred to me how much Harry enjoyed making A Fizzy, Frosty, Fruity Freeze with me, so that seemed like a smart thing to try. Except that we’re fresh out of ginger ale. Seltzer, though, we have in abundance. So I swapped that in and added a small can of pineapple juice, which I keep on-hand for Polynesian Flank Steak. Since seltzer solo ain’t exactly sweet, I added a bit of honey. And for a real kick in the ol’ pants, I tossed in some ground flaxseed—those little suckers are full of fiber. Result: Junior guzzled it down happily, through a green straw of course. Time will tell whether or not it did the trick, but I’ve got everything crossed.
Say a little prayer that my boy’s bowels cooperate, willya?
Oh, and in case you’re wondering: This new version tastes mighty fine. Mighty fine, indeed. The flaxseed just blends right into it, no worries there, and what you’re left with is a bubbly juice shake, except one with actual fiber in it. I enjoyed a big glass of it myself, thank you very much.
A New Fizzy, Frosty, Fruity Freeze
1 cup seltzer
1 cup pomegranate juice
6 oz pineapple juice
1 teaspoon honey
8-10 frozen strawberries
2 tablespoons ground flaxseed
Put all the liquid into a blender and turn it on. Add the strawberries through the feed hole, and then the flaxseed. Serve immediately.