I’d like mine alone.
Anyone that knows me will undoubtedly vouch for me when I say that I like to eat, it is probably my favorite hobby. Food is not merely fuel, let’s not do it a disservice, food is flavored bites of happiness and since having George he is attempting to systematically destroy all the things I love and his most recent battle is now with food. Like every other mother out there I can confirm I love my children deeply but by gosh they must bloody hate me, they strip me of my sleep, my patience, my joy in silence, because let’s be honest when silence occurs when you have children it is at the very least unsettling, at the most a mad dash to find out what the little gits are up to.
The new war that has been declared currently forces me to make numerous meals in hope that one of them will be edible to their ever changing pallets, what they would eat yesterday simply does not make it even into a possible option for today. Trying to convince a toddler to eat is a dubious task and you are likely to be bitten by their horrible sharp brand new little teeth and then they only spit it out and chuck it at you. During this game of duck the flying carrot the food that you actually wanted to eat is going fucking cold and everyone around you seems to have forgotten how to use their indoor voices. I love to hear that my food is nice, that those around me are thankful, happy and enjoying it but please don’t say 15 times waiting for me to respond because if my attention is removed from the tiny toddler of terror he is likely to throw himself from his high chair into the pile of food that he has cast aside and probably start eating it.
Imagine the scene, a mother that so much wants to eat a meal that she has not had to make is treated to lunch in a well known and busy pub, it is full of people enjoying their Friday lunchtime specials and as her food arrives a shit storm of epic proportions erupts from the mouth of her blonde haired blue eyes saint looking child. She can’t hack it, she is looking around at everyone else who just being in earshot of this angry little git is being inflicted with instant heartburn, the mothers face is going red with embarrassment and anger and before she even has a chance to take a mouthful of her salad and unreasonably request daddy to share his burger, chips and onion rings she has surrendered. This was me.
Plus the clean up is disgusting, sometimes I think he has eaten only to find that he has hidden all his food down his top, it has worked its way into his nappy and I have to clean Macaroni Cheese of his balls. Hurrah for motherhood and all its disgusting and soul destroying moments.