My Approach to Feeding My Kids
Recently, I was asked to share my approach to feeding babies and kids and as I was pondering this question, what is my approach? I realized that this is a big, contextual, personal question. The specifics (like what food you provide) are all wrapped up in contexts. Because of this, I don’t feel comfortable telling other people what they or their kids should eat.
When it comes to the food I choose to feed my family, my approach is intertwined with my personal history with food, as well as my beliefs, biases, culture, location, access to food, privilege, support, and time. My personality and passions are an inescapable part of the equation.
That I love food and cooking and have for as long as I can remember changes how I approach and think about feeding my family. That my mom shared her love of cooking with me and taught me how to think creatively in the kitchen is a gift I carry with me and enjoy. That my partner grants me so much time to create the meals I want to make while he watches the kids gives me quiet time I crave in the kitchen.
For so many people, cooking is a burden, a domestic duty, a laborious constant. But, for me, cooking and thinking about ingredients, dreaming of things I want to make—this has always been a source of creativity and pleasure. Cooking is my flow state. I do not follow strict rules. I like to experiment. I have the great privilege of knowing wonderful farmers, access to a year-round farmer’s market, and my family raises pastured chickens and beef. I love the experience of not knowing where I’m going when I start to make a meal and ending up somewhere satisfying and delicious. It feels like magic.
All of this is to say, food is central in my life and community the way church is for other folks. It is perhaps so central that I don’t think about my approach much because I’m thinking about what I might make for dinner. Food doesn’t play this role in everyone’s life and it doesn’t have to. But I think my or your approach to food and feeding kids depends on your relationship to food and cooking as well as how much time, money, and energy you have to spend (or want to spend) on cooking or thinking about food.
There is so much pressure on parents to provide everything to their kids, often with limited resources, while also navigating performative parenting displayed on the internet. Sometimes, when I see Instagram moms masterfully sewing their kids clothes and creating epic bespoke birthday celebrations I think, why am I not a better crafter!? And then I arrive on the other side of this internet-induced guilt and realize it’s because I have limited resources and I’d rather spend my free time doing other stuff. You might feel that way about cooking and that’s just fine. No guilt.
Beyond all this context and caveating, I do feel like there’s a few principles I’m comfortable sharing and try to follow myself:
(Mostly) follow The Satter Division of Responsibility in Feeding (DOR).
According to this model, my feeding jobs include the what, when, and where of feeding while my kids decide how much and whether to eat. This approach emphasizes trust in the child to eat what their body needs. I followed this approach before I knew it had a name because when you provide the food and trust your kids to eat what is right for them, mealtimes are usually less stressful. I recommend checking out the DOR method as well as reading this excellent piece about some issues with DOR by Virginia Sole-Smith.Learn about diet culture and fatphobia and try to parent without it.
A few principles of “parenting without diet culture,” a phrase coined by Oona Hanson, include: treat food as neutral (without hierarchy, good/bad, healthy/unhealthy), don’t criticize your own body or other bodies, and celebrate body diversity at different sizes (don’t idolize or moralize thinness). I’m working on understanding and addressing how diet culture has impacted me and my beliefs about food (note: it impacts ALL OF US). My favorite resources for deepening my awareness (and just great entertainment) are the podcasts Maintenance Phase and Burnt Toast.If it feels right, involve kids in the process.
This is a lot of work and probably not for everyone but I like including my kids in the process of choosing and making food. When I have the time and energy, I’ll bring them grocery shopping and we cook a lot together (mostly treats). We also have a garden they are involved in planting and harvesting (another thing that isn’t always easy). My goal is to give them the tools to feed themselves well while building a healthy relationship to food. Also, my four-year-old makes himself snacks and small meals now and it’s so empowering for him and also wonderful for me.Beware of momfluencer culture.
You know, just general guidance for all parents navigating the overwhelming landscape of utopian, prairie-dress-wearing, aesthetically perfect moms who float effortlessly around the internet glorifying a very specific style and era of momming. I really love Sara Petersen’s substack “In Pursuit of Clean Countertops” for necessary and funny critiques of momfluencer culture, which is often deeply intertwined with diet culture, white privilege, and fatphobia.Be prepared (and flexible).
With snacks, mostly. I wrote a short piece about how I stock my pantry and fridge and I also provide recipes on my blog. There are some meal ideas in How to Grow a Baby and 40+ recipes in my forthcoming book Cycles. I started writing down and developing recipes 15+ years ago because my memory isn’t great, and I find myself returning to what works and what is delicious over and over again. My parenting life has been saved by being prepared and by snacks many, many times.
What I know for sure, as my family grows and we welcome different developmental phases and personalities into our wild home, is that flexibility and adaptability are part of the experience of parenting. We change as our environment changes and our expectations and rules adapt. That’s why the principles/guidelines above are helpful. They offer grace, space for personalization, and are not dogmatic or prescriptive. I can’t imagine parenting any other way.