Friday, November 9, 2012

It's what's for dinner.

Meatloaf. But it might as well be frog legs or tongue. Because if it's anything other than pizza or tacos my kids ALWAYS say "Eeewww. I don't like that." Even if they do like it. Even if they've never had it. Even if it's just because they don't like the way it sounds. 

Lately my days have been filled with "I don't like it" or "It's not fun." or "Why didn't you get me the other thing?" (And by 'lately' I'm pretty sure I mean the last 8 years. Well, 7 anyway.) It's arguing just to argue, disagreeing just to disagree, or the always dreaded "Why?".

I guess it's called being a *gulp* kid. It's terrible!! And it makes being a mom even harder. I wish they could just accept the dinner I slave over each and every night with love and care and effort (too much?), I wish they would just accept it graciously and with thanks. Is it really too much to ask?? I mean, I do it all the time, right? Whatever is put before me I happily accept with no complaints... Yeah, right. BUT the point is that THEY should because it would be so. much. easier. 

And you know what the real kick in the pants is? When they end up saying "Hey, mom, this is good." (In reality it might actually be "this isn't too bad" but no need to get picky.) I just want to get right up in their face and say "I KNOW!!" But instead I look at them and smile and say "I'm glad you like it," knowing that tomorrow night we will encounter exactly the same thing.


On a different note, the kids bed time has been wonderful the past three nights because Ben has done it. Holler! I despise bed time. I don't want to draw it out, I don't want a routine. What I really want is for the three little ones to take themselves upstairs and fall asleep. Just like that. No mommy necessary. No books. No stories. Just give me a kiss, let's pray and off you go. *Do I sound like a horrible mother yet? I feed my kids frog legs and don't tuck them in.* I just buck against the whole 'bedtime' system. I don't know why. All I can say is "Eeewww! I don't like it."

And my kids look at me, hand me 10,000 spoons and tell me they know exactly how I feel.      

NaBloPoMo November 2012

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