Dragged Along in My Wake

Dearest Rachel –

Last night, I actually managed to stay up until 10:30 again, despite having first woken up at a little after four (although at that time, I did try to go back to sleep for an hour or so before conceding defeat and writing to you about it) and finding myself painfully aware of salt grains against my eyes – sleep dust, or the remains of tears I refused to let go of? I was helped along by Daniel, who came up to the doorway of the bedroom at the relatively early hour (for the boys, especially on a Friday night) of a quarter to nine. He mentioned that Logan had a Skype call to hop onto, and would probably go to bed afterward, so he was at a loose end, if I wanted to join him in the family room to watch something with him.

Oh, and he hadn’t had dinner yet (or anything all day, for that matter), and was wondering if I wanted anything – and while we were on the subject, how to prepare anything.

***

I confess to being at something of a loss regarding Daniel and his eating habits, such as they are. I’ve tried to take a more hands-off approach these days, since he and Logan are often together during the evenings – and one look at Logan and you’ll know that he never misses a meal. He’s been a tempering influence on our son in a number of ways; I was hoping that, by breaking bread together on a regular basis, Logan could help ensure that Daniel was taking care of himself, in terms of getting sufficient fuel for… admittedly, what little he needs to do in any given day.

The thing is, I can’t be doing that for him. I’ve got the opposite problem as Daniel, where I need to cut down on what I eat, in order to continue losing the many pounds I still need to in order to appeal to Megumi, whoever she may be (Lars may remind me that this is for myself and my own health first and foremost, but I have trouble accepting that. Future Me might have suffered for my obesity at some point, but at present – and in the recent past – it’s posed no perceptible problems, and I’ve been able to enjoy food without having to worry about how much I’ve been consuming. This self-discipline would never be accomplished for my sake alone; I know myself well enough that only the incentive of attracting someone else to me would be enough to make me go through all of this). With that being said, you can understand why I can’t impose my own eating habits on him; I’m trying to cut down, while I think he needs to bulk up. He literally forgets to eat for the better part of any given day, while I could only dream of having such willpower. In my quest to change myself and how I look, taking responsibility for feeding Daniel would only cause him to be dragged along in my wake, which is probably the last thing he needs.

Anyway, when he asked about whether I wanted anything (and I may have, but I had to deny it, for his sake and mine), I mentioned that I’d had myself a salad when I first got home from the ‘office,’ so I already had that much up on him in terms of eating (actually, I’m pretty sure I’d had breakfast in the morning – cereal and fruit, nothing too fancy – so I was up on him by two whole meals already). Which was true – I’d eaten a whole bag of a preprepared salad, using only half the packet of dressing to further cut down on calories. And before you start gushing about how proud you are about my restraint, bear in mind that I consumed the whole bag at one sitting. Sure, even with all the dressing, it came to some 400 calories, but it was supposed to represent three servings. Plus, I need to tell you about the plans I had for this morning. We’ll get to them eventually.

After some deliberation, I got him to rummage through the freezer. All the while, he was pulling out one box or another, trying to determine what was ‘ours’ and what was Logan’s. I pointed out that this was why I wanted him along when I would go grocery shopping; not only could he pick out things he wanted, he’d be aware of what we had, as he’d been there when we’d gotten it.

As it was, he finally found something he could latch onto – the last eight taquitos in a bulk box from… somewhere – at which point, he had to ask me how to set and start up the air fryer. I walked him through the process, and soon, the thing was whirring merrily.

But it occurred to me that he has three reasons as to why he’s unable to fend for himself (at least, as far as I’m concerned) regarding food. First, he can’t seem to remember when he’s hungry – or maybe, his body and brain don’t communicate about that fact somehow. Either way, I can’t help with that, and in fact, I’d like to have a little bit of this ‘alleged’ problem, myself. Secondly, he doesn’t know what’s available for him to eat – which is partly due to his first ‘problem,’ as he’s not interested enough to find out or participate in the acquisition of food for the house. Finally, even when conditions are met for the first two issues, he doesn’t always know how to prepare what we have for himself – or, in certain cases, decides is more trouble to throw together than to just skip eating entirely. As a result, he gets to the point where I worry that, left untended, he might very well starve to death with a full refrigerator.

***

Now, this goes against much of what I know of human nature; I remember a cartoon where one character was greeted with an expression of surprise by another who found him cooking: “I didn’t know you knew how to make a burrito!” To which he replied with a nonchalant “I didn’t, until my empty stomach primed my empty head.” It’s not exactly a knee-slapper of a punch line, but it conveys my assumptions regarding humanity and food. Let a man grow hungry enough, and he’ll figure out what he wants, and how to prepare it.

The thing is – and maybe this is a mistaken assumption on my part – I can’t let Daniel get that hungry on my watch. As parents with grown children living with them tend to say, “My house, my rules.” Were he living on his own, he’d be free to let himself waste away to skin and bones; but when it’s my responsibility (at least in part, due to him still being under my roof), I need to make sure that he’s fed. So, having seen a half-empty bag of potatoes in the freezer, and recently purchased a pound of chorizo, I figured I’d put together some breakfast for the both of us.

And even though, as a gringo myself, I know next to nothing about how to prepare chorizo con huevos, I let my stomach guide me, and you (and everybody else reading over your shoulder) can see what I did. Feel free to point and laugh, if you so choose.

So, yeah. This would probably be considered a case of backsliding for me, given all the fat in the chorizo. But you know, I will agree with Lars that doing without makes these moments of falling off the wagon taste just a little bit better for how rare and special they are… even if the chorizo was a little grainy from being heated for perhaps a little too long.

And hey, Daniel should be reasonably well-fed for a little while, too.

Anyway, that’s how the day’s gone thus far. I’ll talk to you later, honey, but until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

Epilogue: The irony of making sure Daniel had what, for me, constitutes a more-than-reasonably caloric meal was compounded when I got home after working the booth at church in the evening. It turns out that Logan had planned to cook dinner for us all, having found a recipe for meatloaf cupcakes;

The cupcake pan had twelve indentations, so he made enough so that each of us could have four; and while both of the boys took their share, I decided to be ‘good’ about this, and limit myself to three, instead. Indeed, Logan had to set one of his aside, as he was full after his third as well. But Daniel? He managed to polish off all four without breaking a sweat. Guess I shouldn’t worry about him after all; present him with enough tasty food, and he’ll be more than willing to clean his plate.

It’s just getting to that point that’s difficult.

Wish us luck, honey; we’re gonna need it.