So here’s the deal. As parents we have to feed our children. If we don’t, there will be whining and tears.
In my house, I am in charge of dinner. Yes, it’s a thankless job and no one appreciates the meal. Usually, my kids tell me that my meal is yucky and gross and I ‘didn’t make the best dinner.’ Really? I didn’t make the best dinner? I don’t recall you sweating over a hot microwave.
So yes, maybe I didn’t make the best dinner but your meal is lukewarm. Be happy it’s defrosted. When I sit down to my lukewarm dinner, you want milk and juice as soon as my ass makes contact with the chair. And I know as soon as I get up you are eating my dinner off my plate which is the same damn dinner that is on your plate. Why are you complaining about your dinner… it’s the same thing…SAME THING.
Let me tell you what a dinner is like in this house. It isn’t about family time and eating; it’s about who the hell is sitting on the chair and who is eating off the floor. Tonight, Emily started waving at her reflection in the light fixture and started saying ‘hi different family.’ Ok, you’re creepy and could you just grab this little yellow spoon and eat your almost-homemade chicken noodle soup? Is it really that hard?
Dinner is like an hour long here; the tiny people that live here usually hate the meal. Let me tell you something kids, I put a lot of thought into this meal; at least three minutes, while in panic mode because I have to constantly feed you people. Meanwhile, I am at the stove dodging three tiny people rolling around on the ground in the kitchen, while they are crying for juice, while they are asking me to play with them, while I am helping with homework.
First of all, stop rolling around in the kitchen. We literally have a nice sized house… go roll somewhere else. You want me to get you juice but you are crying that you are starving and my cooking is taking ‘too long’, so what exactly would you like me to do? No, I can’t be Elsa right now and go to the snowy mountain… I am cooking soup today; which my husband commented on because I made the soup on the hottest day in September. And now Vincent has homework; I can’t wait for sight words. Sight words. Sight words… All. Year. Long… the same damn words.
On the weekends dinner is pretty much the same. My kids enjoy chicken fingers like so many other kids. I love when they ask for the them because it really takes one minute in the microwave. Yup, they just asked for those dinosaur chicken nuggets but then I put down their plates and I didn’t ‘make the best dinner.’ Really? Really? I just gave you five chicken nuggets with two sides; the side of ketchup and the side of barbeque sauce was placed so nicely on your plates and you don’t want the nuggets? They’re dinosaurs. Wtf? When I was a kid; we didn’t have chicken nuggets; eat your chicken nuggets with your ketchup and barbeque side and be happy.
I only have one request for dinner. Well, I have several:
- Sit in your chair.
- Don’t eat off the floor.
- Stop bringing down my dinner
- Stop touching me and trying to tickle my armpit.
- Stop talking to the different family in the reflection; that’s how scary movies start.
- Get your feet off the table; when was the last time you changed your socks?
- Be thankful for dinosaur nuggets and your healthy side of sauces.
- Stop rolling on the floor.
- Stop making me go to the snowy mountain.
- Stop stealing my food off my plate because you have the same damn thing.
- No, I don’t want to do site words. Ever.
- Finally… use your spoon and point it to your mouth; this will help with the eating process.
With these simple rules dinner could be ten minutes instead of an hour.
So when Joe and I eat together, life is simple. The fork goes in my mouth and I eat way more than I should but that’s how we are; simple and life is black and white. Meanwhile, my children are talking to different families, tickling my armpit and eating off the floor because dinner with kids is black, white and crazy.
Until next time,
The underappreciated cook who never had dinosaur chicken nuggets