It started out so pleasantly, and then… I went from zero to bitch in about sixty seconds. The thing is, there is nothing in particular that really set me off, I am usually so laid back.
I guess if I had to really think about why I feel so agitated, I’d have to say that I feel like a failure as a Mom sometimes.
I know each child brings his or her particular challenges to the table but sometimes the table is the exact place I can not handle it and when it comes to parenting my son I think i might get further with him through dinner if I stuck an ice pick in my eye.
Example: We’ve just started school.. and, in an effort to make sure everyone knows “the plan” I sit them down and we talk at length about how the school days are going to go down- similar to how one might plot out a military response.
Everyone has their orders, and I’ve been clear that there is a delineation between Church and State; er, Summer vacation and school year, and now that the school year has begun we have to do things we might not be used to:
- Wear Shoes and brush teeth.
- No Yodeling in the house.
- Manners… remember those?
- No Snacks at every whim throughout the day, and sit down dinners are mandatory. BYOC ( chair)
- Homework done before any extra activities
- Healthy dinners as a family.
Ok you don’t need the whole list but you get the idea.
My Son just gets pickier with the kind of food he will consume, and my biggest challenge is getting him to eat dinner. I feel myself amping up each time I get ready to call him in for my home-cooked offering… I am anticipating an issue, and so I talk to myself trying to just ease myself into the moment…
“put the knives down, and open a big bottle of wine, that’s right… see how easy that is…” etc.
and usually before dinner I’ve been hen pecked to death about snacks…
“can I have a snack ?”
“But I’m huuuungry!”
“I think i’m dyyying”
and the whining and pecking can go on and on. If I should break down ( NEVER. HAPPENS.) I *might* let him have something light like a gluten free fig newton or something (because any Waldorf mother would approve- ah, yeah) .. just to get him by till mealtime.
Regardless of if I do, or if I do not- he invariably finds something wrong with the actual meal, and this boy has a stubborn streak way more impressive then his mother, let me tell YOU. Sooo what I mean to say is this: I SUCK at making him eat what I’ve cooked, so each night is a major production to get some real food into him and I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it.
Tonight- I snapped ( ok, so what that’s it’s only night two of making school night family dinners ?) and found myself holding a fork in my hand to his mouth like he was a baby and growling in a low threatening voice…
“EAT IT NOW or I am going to get violent.”
I hate the end of summer.