I tried to wean my teens off junk food. I’m ashamed to admit the consequences

With a study revealing that teenagers get nearly two thirds of their daily calorie intake from UPFs, one mum-of-three decided to take action

When my children were babies I dutifully breastfed them, blended organic purées and chopped up their grapes. As toddlers I smugly offered up breadsticks and hummus and made them believe broccoli was jolly. 
But as the years have passed I’ve let their nutrition slide. Embarrassingly so. Breakfasts are grabbed as they’re pushed out the door (me hissing “don’t miss the bus”) and my involvement with their lunches amounts to just topping up their accounts so they can eat from the school canteen. Dinner is too often convenience food, served up with an accompanying dollop of shame (especially if I’m feeding a friend of theirs and worry I’ll be judged).
Whatsmore, I’ve even “enabled” their junk food addiction, handing over fivers for McDonald’s or KFC with friends because I’m so relieved, after Covid set them back socially for years, that they’re out and – yes! – have mates. And for any cherub who chooses to nestle up with me on the sofa these days, the reward (bribe?) is a bucket of popcorn. 
Frankly, by the time you’re parenting teens, you’re so pathetically grateful they’re not in a gang/necking vodka/vaping that eating standards become relaxed. And I’ve never really known how to cook with pulses, despite owning Ottolenghi Simple. 
But our family is far from unusual. The average adolescent gets nearly two thirds of their daily calorie intake from UPFs, according to the UK National Diet and Nutrition Survey. No parent wants to store up future health problems for their darlings and the frightening warnings about ultra-processed foods are impossible to ignore. Even “laid back” parents find the high blood pressure and heart disease links alarming, and those “why are the young getting more cancer?” headlines terrify me and ramp up the guilt.
I already fear my eldest, Cassius, 18, will live on Pot Noodle when he starts university shortly. He recently held up a garlic bulb, asking whether it was a shallot. My daughter Lexie, 16, has more common sense in the kitchen. But, as many mums of daughters will admit, daring to comment on her crisp consumption is a risk. I fear she’ll take it as a criticism of her looks, at the very age we want to embolden girls and boost their body confidence. Meanwhile my youngest, Lucien gets away with far more biscuits (and screen time) than the others did at 13. Most parents of three often lose the will to, well, parent much. 
I’m also separated from their dad. We share childcare and still eat as a family several times a week (sounds “weird” but it works for us). If I collect the kids one evening and he’s serving up a ready-meal lasagne (think Aldi, not Charlie Bigham – separation is financially crippling) it would seem petty and hypocritical for me to complain it’s not homemade or organic. I’ll gratefully tuck in. We might ‘win’ at co-parenting (or so we tell ourselves) but for culinary matters we’re failing.
As the summer finally draws to a close it’s time to get our eating habits back on track. Here’s what happened when I tried to ditch the junk…
Cut down on additive-packed, sugar-laden foods and drinks gradually, says Nichola Ludlam-Raine, a specialist registered dietitian and the author of How Not To Eat Ultra-Processed. The most obvious step one for me is to stop buying fizzy drinks. 
“Swap to the sugar-free versions, or better still make your own with a little fresh juice, ice and sparkling water,” Ludlam-Raine advises. I make Lucien this new virtuous version, who screws his nose up saying, “it doesn’t taste like Fanta.” Then shrugs and drinks it admitting it’s “better than just water”.  
Prime, the energy drink he became obsessed with last year, is really not healthy, says Ludlam-Raine. Knackered parents need caffeine, kids do not. She points to several recent studies which show the negative consequences of consuming energy drinks including anxiety and stress. I decide to take a hard line on energy drinks, and allow the odd caffeine-free Diet Coke at the weekend only. 
The next task is to edit our “snack cupboard” (which family doesn’t have one?). Ours was never intentionally designed, it just developed into where microwave popcorn, Doritos and Kit-Kats were stored. And yes, replenished too often. 
Snacks are the biggest UPFs culprits, Ludlam-Raine notes. “Ditch the instant popcorn and make your own in a pan instead, seasoned with a little salt as it’s still better than shop-bought,” she suggests. On her advice, I also reintroduce the treats they loved as toddlers – boxes of raisins, dried apricots and mango. The brood seem quite pleased when they discover them, and nostalgically remember the picnic trips of primary days. It’s sweet, but I just hope they’re not binning them when out of sight.
After school is typically when kids reach for biscuits. “Move the tin to a high cupboard shelf,” says Ludlam-Raine, this creates what she calls a “pause point” a second or two to ask ourselves if we really want the biscuit, or are we mindlessly eating it out of habit. Generally, it’s the latter. 
Replacing the HobNobs with oat or rice cakes feels too joyless, so I allow the McVities to run out, then at the weekend we fill the jar with flapjacks I’ve made with Lucien after I’ve managed to prise him away from his game Fortnite. It’s lovely chatting to him in the kitchen and I learn more about how he’s really been as we bake, rather than the standard “yeah fine” response I usually get.
When Lexie opens the fridge, she spots that I’ve stacked it with chopped carrots and peppers (other old habits I’m reviving) and cheerfully starts dipping them into my tactically-placed tzatziki. 
Money: By cutting out the fizzy drinks and buying fruit and veg from the market I’ve saved cash. Homemade popcorn and flapjacks are cheaper than branded varieties.
I also swapped the UPF-laden, radioactive-orange Doritos for (only slightly more expensive) Kettle Chips, which are just potatoes, oil and salt. Ludlam-Raine approves.
Mood: Perhaps it’s the novelty, but I’ve had no complaints so far.
It’s time to tackle breakfast. Lucien’s favourite porridge is the golden syrup two-minute microwave version. Ludlam-Raine says the instant porridge isn’t bad, but it’s better to choose the plain version instead. “Top with fruit, nuts, seeds and a blob of pure honey if needed,” she recommends.
Lexie’s weekday go-to is muesli. Instead of our normal brand, I shell out a bit more for Bio&Me, with fewer additives and sugar. This is met with initial resistance: “It tastes like cardboard”. But by day two, she has acclimatised. 
Less successful is swapping Cassius’ beloved raisin and cinnamon bagels for wholegrain ones. “I know they’re healthier but they don’t taste as nice,” he says (I privately agree). Jason’s sourdough bread (more expensive than Mighty White but no UPFs) is a surprise hit however. And to top it, out goes our staple Sun-Pat – it contains the stabiliser E471, a synthetic fat used to emulsify the product – and in comes peanut butter that contains 100 per cent nuts. Our Nutella also gets replaced with a chocolate and hazelnut spread from Deliciously Ella, which is plant-based and palm oil-free. Different but not bad is the verdict.
My kids were raised on a morning glass of juice, but a piece of fruit is better and “has way more insoluble and soluble fibre, less sugar, and it releases its energy more slowly too,” says Ludlam-Raine.
But peeling it is “more faff” they moan. I grit my teeth and compromise on buying juice “with bits in” for more fibre and limit their glasses to no more than 150ml a day. Ludlam-Raine suggests trying again with the whole fruit until they’re having it three days a week, then on the other days, juice is fine.
On Saturday, instead of shop-bought waffles with their lengthy ingredient list (including palm oil, glucose-fructose syrup, stabiliser, salt, emulsifiers and raising agents) I make pancakes with good old-fashioned milk, eggs and flour. A big hit.
On Sunday I scramble eggs with smoked salmon instead of shoving sausages and ketchup in white baps. More expensive, but no guilt factor, and no complaints.
Money: I’ve spent a little more on the higher-quality brands but saved on the homemade pancakes. If I ever manage to persuade them to eat satsumas instead of necking Tropicana I’ll be back in pocket.
Mood: There’s more resistance adjusting to new healthier versions of their favourite brands, but the moaning isn’t as bad as I feared. I feel they’re almost enjoying knowing things are healthier, and I’m taking charge.
Making packed lunches isn’t happening (I’m not a morning person, neither are they) but happily, Ludlam-Raine isn’t overly worried about the school canteen fare. More helpful, she says, is to generally encourage eating more plant-based foods. 
I also encourage the kids to read labels themselves, showing them a super-long list is usually not ideal. “Three emulsifiers in particular (P80/E433, E407 and E466) found sometimes in ice-creams and other baked goods, have been linked with gut inflammation in rodent studies,” says Ludlam-Raine. 
Dinner is where the adults need to take responsibility. Neither I nor the ex have time to slave in the kitchen, but jacket potatoes are hardly labour-intensive. I also re-start a Hello Fresh subscription so the kids can help choose meals to make them themselves. When I come home and find the oldest two following a Thai green curry recipe together my heart sings. 
I can’t face cutting pizza out completely – and I don’t have to. “The shop-bought thin-crust varieties are fine,” Ludlam-Raine assures me. “Choose margaritas, then load up with extra veggies and lean chicken. Serve with a big salad. It’s about adding more good things rather than taking things away.”
I “forget” to buy Ben & Jerry’s, but pick up Greek yogurt instead, with frozen berries and low-sugar granola to pimp it up. They lap it up. 
Chocolate doesn’t have to entirely go (thank God), nor do we have to swap to dark chocolate (which would be preferable, but my kids hate it). Although milk chocolate can contain soya lecithin, an emulsifier, it’s only in small amounts,  says Ludlam-Raine. “Focus on fibre and micronutrients in main meals, then even if you’re having 50g of chocolate a day in addition to whole food it’s not a big deal.” 
Ludlam-Raine suggests I talk to the kids about the different types of hunger.
“Is it ‘head’ (associating watching a film with popcorn), ‘heart’ (emotional eating) or ‘stomach’ (your body needs fuel),” says Ludlam-Rasine. She’s not suggesting any one goes hungry, more just notices.
Lucien looks at me blankly. “I’m just the normal hungry.” Fair enough, I say handing him a banana. 
When I’m looking under his bed the next day for lost socks I spy an empty Twix wrapper. It’s hardly a crime, especially as I know he ate a proper meal with greens earlier on that evening.  Ludlam-Raine says to let go of the things I can’t control, so that’s what I try to do – and move the fruit bowl to a more prominent position.
I’ve spent a bit more overall, but what I’ve gained by feeling less guilty is priceless. After looking at what they were eating across the week it was shocking to see how much junk we were mindlessly consuming. And how little fruit and vegetables.
Bringing these back in was surprisingly easy. I’d already done all the hard work by getting them used to healthy things as toddlers, but I’d just let things slip so appallingly.
The most uncomfortable realisation about the entire mission, I have to admit, is that most of their “bad” habits have been caused by my own parental laziness. They weren’t asking for the rubbish, yet I was the fool providing it. What had begun as me slipping more occasional “treats” into the shopping basket to keep them happy (perhaps post-separation) had become entrenched habits.
There was some resistance of course, especially from the youngest over fizzy drinks. But I genuinely haven’t spent longer in the kitchen these past week, and the times I have it’s been with the kids helping and chatting with me. The odd KFC won’t hurt them but I won’t be Deliveroo-ing it in future.
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