Oh No You Didn't

While I have fantasized about posting a sign 'Mom's left for the Pacific Crest Trail', or 'Mom's on an Eat, Pray, Love International Adventure', carrying nothing more than a backpack and none of the worries that accompany parenthood, that was not the sign I posted that day. Who hasn't dreamt of escape? That Monday, I did the next best thing; I closed the kitchen, and experienced relief and validation.
I look forward to the 2-3 times per week that we
can sit down as a family and enjoy a delicious meal I have thoughtfully
prepared. The other nights we are lucky to have a sandwich in the car as
we race off to children's sports activities. I affectionately call this meal 'shit on a shingle'. Typically, at family dinner time we share our highs
and lows, give compliments, take turns, and have proper manners on a perfect
day...although lately that behavior exists solely in my head! Enforcing polite dinner table behavior
has become the bane of my existence in this family of six and we are outnumbered
as parents. No one would believe it if I told them how often our family
meals digress into fits of hysteria. Usually, dinner begins with
interruptions from siblings as we take turns sharing, then a child passes gas
(from one end or the other) claiming to have made a valiant effort to contain
it, another child barks "who's serving milk tonight", while the child
on duty sashays to the fridge either whining or dancing to elicit
attention. Without fail, amidst the chaos, a boy child has to be
excused to 'take a dump'. Clever timing!
My husband and I have tried everything from
immediately excusing them from the table to passing the baton when it's time to
speak. Some consequences have included bedtime with no dinner and additional jobs to give mom back some energy. Despite our sheer exhaustion as
parents, we pulled all the 'Parenting with Love and Logic' punches but landed flat this evening.
Unfortunately, spaghetti was the meal served
that Sunday and I vividly remember my husband and I demonstrating the proper
twirl of small bites on the fork. All four children proceeded to eat like
piggies (picture Ralphie in 'A Christmas Story') as we cautioned that they would
never have dates in high school with such disgusting habits. As if they
cared! Nevertheless, we persisted in our attempt to raise polite adults. I'll admit the kids were somewhat hilarious sucking spaghetti as they erupted into fits of laughter
observing my youngest 'floss dance' as he was excused
to serve milk. My husband and I challenged each other with an 'I dare you not to
smile' look, as our youngest displayed his radical dance moves!
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at our parenting fail. Having
seen my angst, my husband ended dinner immediately and I escaped for a long
walk in the woods. I planned not to come back home until the children
finished dishes, or college, and were at least tucked in bed. In hindsight, as no one
seemed to have missed my absence, I should've seized my opportunity to set off
for the Pacific Crest Trail...

Honestly, this mom could've continued all month! Fortunately for the children, our cousin was visiting on Saturday, so rather than make him starve too; I challenged the children to display appropriate behavior during the family dinner I had dutifully prepared for our guest. With the exception of their inability to say grace when asked (wouldn't you know our cousin happens to be a senior minister), which was a whole separate embarrassment, they managed to each share what they were thankful for. There was no hitting, farting, dancing or burping, only polite laughter and much grace during our family dinner. I breathed a sigh of relief that evening.
Today, a week later, the sign came down. I
choose to believe, however, it left a lasting impression. My husband is
back to his co-parenting weight, my children are additionally responsible for preparing
Sunday meals and I have renewed peace and respect! I'll admit I still dream of a vacation...
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