Fineprint: The Meal-Time Battles

As my mom can surely attest to, growing up I was the pickiest eater around. I survived for a year on chicken noodle soup and Vegetable Thins crackers, not because of a lack of wonderful home cooked meals, but because any attempt to feed me something new resulted in an hour at the table filled with tears, tantrums, and likely gagging as I filled my mouth with milk with every swallow. It was awful.

Because of my personal history I have approached cooking for my children with the expectation that majority of my dishes will not meet my children's approval, and I'm okay with that. Ketchup has become my weapon of choice in the dinnertime battle, because most things if drenched in ketchup will make it past the taste test. K is way worse than C. C will eat most of what's presented as long as no vegetable is within sight. And I'm okay with this. Usually I can sneak in some fruit slices or a yogurt onto the plate and I tell myself that this portion of healthy food will offset the not-so-healthy frozen fish sticks or kraft dinner. I signed up for mealtime battles, it was all part of the contract, but I missed the fine print.

See, the thing that gets me, the part that actually does hurt my ego, is that my kids will basically eat anything that they find. For over a year K would sneak a piece of dog food every time my back was turned. I can't make him stop eating snow despite the frequest leaves and dirt and "other" items that he's swallowed in the process. I've actually seen him lick the dog. And C's just as bad. Granted he's only 17 months, but last weekend, visiting friends, he not once but twice found a piece of sidewalk chalk to chomp down on and made a huge tantrum when I took it away.

So it begs the question, is my cooking really so awful that the critics would rather eat crayons than try a spoonful of soup? Is my pizza so terrible that an after dinner dog biscuit is preferable?

I'm sure like everything else it's a phase. Most 10 year olds will clear a plate of "normal" food...right? and I guess I always have a fall-back: 10 years of a rotating meal plan of Kraft Dinner and Macaroni & Cheese. It might not be my ideal menu, but it sure beats kibbles and bits :)

You'll Never Guess What My Kids Are Up To

It's not even 10am and I'm sitting down to enjoy a nice chai tea latte. It's warm and I haven't even had to reheat it the typical three times. How is this possible? Why have I had this rare opportunity to actually take a breath a enjoy a quiet, solitary moment. My children are (dramatic pause) playing with each other. Actually playing. They are in K's room, playing with trains. Sharing. and its been going on for nearly an hour.

It started when C started crying to announce he was wake and ready to start his day. Too lazy to drag myself out of bed, I asked K to go say hi to his brother. K begrudgingly marched into C's room and announced in his growly "dinosaur" voice, "These are my trains and you can't have them" (translation: "Good morning"). But then something shifted. The dinosaur voice gave way to his regular, pleasant K voice, and I smiled as K explained to his brother how he had found his Thomas trains this morning and then went into his room.

Then K brought two of his trains for C to play with, and then invited him into his room to play. And they did. They played. No crying. No fighting. All I can hear is giggling and K telling his brother all the ins and outs of the Sodor trains and C babbling back. This is the moment that I had in my mind when I found out I was having two boys. This is the moment that gives me hope that they might actually grow up and like each other, that maybe the all the pinching and hitting and kicking and pushing will evolve into something that looks more like friendship.

Okay okay, overkill maybe. And now there's C crying, and K shouting "that's not funny". My perfect moment is over. My tea is still only half drunk. But it happened, and maybe it'll happen again. For today, that's enough for me.

What Ever Happened to Soap Operas and Bon Bons

So I'm finally giving in and starting a blog. Its kind of the 'in thing' to do, or at least that what I've heard. I've thought long and hard about what I would write, what is so interesting in my life that someone else would care to hear it. And the answer to that question truthfully, is nothing.

There's nothing particularly unique about my day-to-day life. I'm a work at home mom, with two young boys. I make the beds, fix breakfast, clean and clothe my toddler and preschooler, I read books, and do crafts, clean the house and buy the groceries, and if I find the time, maybe squeeze in a shower and watch some Oprah. But sometimes, in those rare, quiet moments, I get time to really think, and so often the thought that creeps up on me is, "How did I get here?"

Look at my Mom, she made it look easy. We ate at home almost every night, and to real, homemade dinners. Fast food was a treat, not a routine. Our house was clean, so were us kids, and she never appeared frazzled. So when I signed up for the position of Mommy, it was a no brainer. I always knew I wanted to stay home with my kids. From a very young age I had the desire to be a stay-at-home mom. My mother stayed home to raise my brother and me, her mom stayed home and raised her. It was the natural path, not even a choice really. I'd done well in school and at my jobs. Whatever I tried I excelled at. I loved kids and cooking, I knew how to do laundry and clean a house, so really, how much work would it be? Right?

But oh when that illusion is shattered. When the dogs won't stop whining and the kids won't stop barking, the "homemade dinner" of Kraft dinner is burning on the stove as my Blackberry vibrates to let me know another email has arrived...that's when it hits me.

What if this isn't a 'natural path' at all?

What if its not easy?

What ever happened to soap operas and bon bons?

To be fair, I love my kids. I am so incredibly grateful that I CAN be home with them. But there are days. There are days when I just have to laugh at where I am. University educated, strong, confident woman, desperately negotiating with my three year old to keep his shirt on while he poops. And I have to think, I cannot be the only mommy out there who feels like this, who wonders, "How did I get here?"

So that's what my blog will be. My blog will be a place that I can finally admit that my house isn't actually organized, and that I didn't brush my hair this morning, and that my son's socks don't match. And hopefully, somehow through the anonymity of the internet, someone out there will tell me that they feel the same way.