I bet if I served this up to my kids for dinner, they'd critique it somehow. And it doesn't get much better than this, y'all - it's a bowl full of cherries. They'd find something wrong with it.
My kids are good kids. They are beautiful, brilliant, and funny, and fun. They are good kids. There's just a few realities I'd like to take a moment to point out to you, and to my kids. Number one, they can't seem to eat, nothing is good enough for their childish palates lately. Number two, they leave their stuff out everywhere. Let's start with number one.
I realize I've made some fairly extreme efforts to eat healthier here. And all of my friends will tell you, I'm the mean mom who, when they tell me their kids won't eat this or that, I tell them to make them. Because typically, that's worked for me. Until now, well, when that whole fish incident happened, I had to review my mothering you-will-eat-this-now techniques. But I'd say for the last month or so, they do something to hesitate, wince, or critique my cooking. I would take this into consideration and revamp my cooking. But Ricardo likes it. And the other morning when I made almost 50 chocolate chip pancakes - I serve them the first ones, literally hot off the griddle. And then while they eat, I continue pouring and flipping. And they don't like the effn chocolate chip pancakes because, and this seriously came out of their mouths, "Mommy, it's too chocolatey." That was the straw before the straw that broke this camel's back. The straw that actually broke my back was last night.
Last night I made a delicious eggplant parmesan lasagna. It was wholesome goodness. It was healthy and kid friendly in that it met some yummy melty cheese quota, I'm sure of it. I spent an hour and a half making the lasagna. You couldn't even tell there was eggplant in it. It did come out a bit more watery from the tomatoes than I'd anticipated. Still, I drained it a bit and it was good.
But Sir Max and Madame Lucy sat down, assessed it, picked around and were not approving of their meal. They ate the bread I served with it and then cited they were full and I gave them too much. This is their new defense against homemade meals at our house, "They are full." It's a constant at our house. We tell them they are going to eat it. And then they balk and we say you need to eat 7 bites, or something like that. And it takes a half hour of nagging to get them to eat. This was the dance last night. It's exhausting, but I got them to eat it. Lucy finished first and then, remember how full she was - she asked for an apple for dessert. I was ticked, but the girl asked for an apple, y'all. So, while Max sat at the table staring at his bowl of food he was refusing to eat, I let Lucy have an apple. She finished it and then asked for another one. And that might be when I lost it. So, I might have gone a little crazy-yelly-mommy and that point. I explained that I was tired of cooking for them and then they won't eat it. It doesn't matter if it's good or not, they immediately critique it. I'm tired of it and my feelings are hurt. I mean, it was cheesy yummy delicious lasagna, y'all. And that's when I explained they have to make their own meals now. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And no more snacks.
I'm making the kids make their own meals for a week. Tonight is taco night. I'm going to make it for Chris and I. Serve it. Call them to the table. And then tell them to make their own dinner. It better be as great and victorious as I envision.
I must have been on a roll because when I got up to go tuck them into bed, I stepped on one of their shoes, and then had to step over a rain poncho. Mind you, it hasn't rained here in well over a week. I turned the corner and there was Max's backpack with his unfinished lunch in the middle of the floor, standing upright, papers pouring out, and his water bottle setting next to the back pack. Like he'd just had a picnic in our living room and then walked away. I envisioned the next morning of him not being able to find his lunch bag, his water bottle not washed to take to school the next day, and then losing his spelling list. Because trust me, even though it was right there in the middle of the living room, he'd never be able to find it in his great running-late hour of need.
Then I remembered all the times in the last month, I've gone to tell them to pick this up, or remember their responsibilities, only to be interrupted by them telling me one more thing they just have to have for their upcoming birthday. And that might be when I started yelling. I started off with a threat that if they left ONE thing out of place, on the kitchen island, on a chair, on the floor, or blocking the doorway out on the patio, I would cancel their birthday. It worked, because they got to picking everything up. But while they picked it all up, I realized that asking for absolute perfection was a bit much. Still, I let them pick up the entire house before I recanted my threat.
I took back the threat and then explained, anything on the floor or out of place is going to charity - and it will NOT be replaced, a backpack, a lunch bag, a game controller, a stuffed animal, any of it. It's gone. Thankfully, Ricardo and I have proven ourselves on this in the past. They know we'll do it. I told them they needed to stop telling me what to get them for their birthday and start taking care of what they own already.
I sent them to bed in great hopes and exhaustion that my nagging worked this time. I think to myself, "I really think I got through to them this time." And then the bedtime stalling begins. Max comes down explaining in ridiculously strewn out and broken sentences that he and Lucy have been talking (when they should have been reading and sleeping) and they've decided they just really don't want to eat vegetables anymore. It was the perfect time to laugh in the kids' face. But I could tell his sister had sent him down to make this plea. She'd thrown him to the wolves. So, I simply allowed for awkward silence to follow his lame explanation and then said, "You will eat your vegetables. Go to bed. I love you."
I have really great kids. And they are also spoiled and ungrateful. Bring it on kids. Bring it on. Mommy's on a cooking and cleaning timeout. Don't worry, I still have plenty of laundry to do. This better work.
That's how I roll.
Song of the day: The Middle - by Jimmy Eat World
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