I was in hospital for two nights over the weekend for pre-term labour and I had a moment of insight so here it is. Tell me if I'm crazy. 
Â
So I was served hospital food. And there wasn't anything especially wrong with what came, although it definitely isn't how we eat at home. But I had no say in it the first day because I wasn't there to select from the 2-3 choices they give you.
Â
Everything on the trays was something I would generally eat, as in there wasn't any liver or whatever. But it wasn't always in combinations that made sense to me (bran cereal and a bran muffin seemed like bran overkill) or prepared in a way I loved (steamed cubes of squash with no seasoning). And the texture combinations were not good, like the steamed cubes were served with mashed potatoes and ground beef, so everything was kind of...mushy.Â
Â
And I got seriously cranky, for a 39 year old. For one thing the timing wasn't right for when my hunger was spiking. But it was also just the lack of say in it and the way it sort of just felt all wrong.
Â
The second day I had selected dal for lunch and although it was bland for a dal and came with rice that seemed undercooked, it went down much better because I had chosen it over the pasta primavera that sounded really icky.
Â
I realized that probably my son has experienced a number of our family meals this way. We do often plan and cook together, but sometimes we don't. It's just the whole way it happens - the time was dictated by the hospital the way I dictate the time at home, and so on. It reminded me to be sympathetic (without allowing rudeness or excessive waste or short-order cooking) to the days when I've made something that he's just not into right then.
Â
Have you had any similar thoughts on food and control and stuff? I'm not sure I'm explaining this right but it seemed profound at the time, when I was staring at the squash and getting all cranky.















