Next up in the “Brandy is laid up on pain killers” week, we have Alicia from Life with Ladies. You know Alicia…the sneaky one that flew from Canada to meet me. Yup. Well she tackles a household of 3 beautiful little girls and a husband who just loves sending me photos of sloths like a jackass. She decided to rant about trying to feed these people daily and I think we all feel this way some days. Don’t you?
“We’re having that for dinner?”
No. I’m merely an over-glorified waitress here to amuse you by fully preparing, cooking, assembling and presenting this nutritious bounty of food FOR YOU TO SCOFF AT.
Dramatics aside, the Dinner Dance is one of my most hated parental chores. I swear I start thinking about tomorrow’s dinner before I’ve put the last forkful of my current dinner in my mouth. “Maybe I should take out that chicken? Is Ryan going to be home for dinner or late? Oh but maybe we should have a veggie meal…no, that’ll be Wednesday. Oh but by Wednesday there’ll already be so many leftovers…will the girls even eat that red sauce?…” and on and on and on it goes.
The “What To Eat” question plagues not only working parents, but I’m sure SAHMs are probably cleaning up lunch plates thinking there isn’t an icicle’s chance in hell they can get their beauties to willingly eat two prepared meals that day. And it ain’t for lack of trying! No, we parents will chop and shave and pick and display any and all food items to their culinary limits in order to make them simply appear more appetizing. We’re trying to hit every food group, fill that plate with a rainbow of delicious, nutritious sustenance.
One time? I fashioned a fairly impressive beach scene out of a cheese string, some grapes, and crackers. I even went so far as to float a kielbasa boat out to a blueberry sea. How proud I was of my creation! “I don’t like these colour grapes” was the response. I wanted to flip the table. Instead I calmly repeated “please finish what is on your plate” a few thousand times, willing myself to unclench my teeth.
Walking in the door every night from work leads me exactly two places in my house. A quick stop at the front door to fling my purse and coat in the general direction of the coat racks, then down the hall to the kitchen. Where I’m camped out for the next two hours. I wrangle this kid’s permission slip while chopping that pepper. My eyes quickly scan the cupboard for where-did-I-put-that-cous-cous-again and I’m reminding at least two out of three children to please for the love, use your inside voices! The way schedules work out in my house, it’s me doing this alone with three kids at least 90% of the time. So I get to not only dream up a dinner plan that inevitably pleases only 75% of my “guests”, but I get to execute said plan while effectively being distracted by 17 mini-crises and probably stepping over a dog…or a kid pretending to be a dog beside my actual dog, and also somewhere in there find a minute to actually talk to my kids.
It’s always this rush to get dinner on the table before 6:00pm. Who invented this rush? Well…I did. If dinner is on the table by 6:00, we’re maybe done eating by 7:00. Then it’s homework and baths and catching up and winding down for an hour and now we’re pushing that 8:30 bedtime.
Oh hell yes, the Family Dinner is important to us. So important, in fact, that I will continuously subject myself to the torture of thinking about it, preparing it, cooking it, serving it, and reminding everyone that yes they have to eat it…night after night after night. Except when it’s pizza night because oh hell, I give up! Feeding people is dumb. It takes up so much of a parent’s energy- mentally and physically…but mostly mentally cause that shit will break you.
Did you miss day one in hobo eviction week? Check out why Brandee is a toddler mom through in through.