Unfortunately, my life’s work is not writing.Rather, my life’s work is getting food into the bottomless belly of my seven year-old son.
This isn’t easy. First of all, the skinny guy burns off calories so quickly, he actually gets hungry by eating.
Also, there’s his sensitivity to carbs. We try to follow the Feingold Diet, eliminating dyes, preservatives, partial-hydrogenation, and corn syrup. In other words, if it’s in a Dorito, Reesie can’t have it.
The next challenge is that Rees is a self-proclaimed vegetarian. And strict, too—he won’t eat anything “with feelings.”
See, trying to suppress an infinite appetite with tasty, Feingold-y, vegetarian, high-protein fare is tricky!
Plus, I have three other eaters to satisfy: a starch-seeker and two ravenous carnivores, who mostly have to settle with what I’m making for Rees.
The good thing is that the little cutie will snarf almost anything. He inhales Cuban black beans, Teriyaki tofu, and grilled cheese with tomato soup. His favorite is a sprout sandwich.
The bad thing is that I’m always in the kitchen, baking bread and stirring lentils, while ideas for revising my manuscript evaporate with the steam.
Writing is definitely on the back burner.
There will be a time, though, when the house is empty of hungry young people, when Fritos and Oreos crowd the cabinets, when time for writing and revising is abundant.
I hope there will still be something to write about.
