You guys,
I hate dinner time.
There’s nothing enjoyable about eating when you’ve got one child screaming in his high chair and the other child teetering on your lap as you try to take a bite of chicken. Sure, some food makes its way into my mouth but more often than not it ends up on the floor or on my baby’s head.
Sam and I assemble an array of food for George on his tray. Will he get in his high chair? Will he eat any of his food? Best to assume not.
We sit down at the table and I proceed to inhale my food in under three minutes. When you eat that fast it doesn’t matter what you’re eating. Nothing tastes good.
Sam attempts dinner conversation. “How was your call?” As if I can think. Even if I can formulate a sentence he can’t hear me over George’s piercing screams which we try to ignore but OH MY GOD PLEASE SHUT UP.
I just want it to be over.
Which is also why I hate making dinner. One solution to my lack of desire to come up with and execute meals is HelloFresh. It’s great. It’s “easy.” The recipe printout promises me: 5 minutes prep, 10 minutes cook time.
15 minutes my ass.
I spend the morning washing and chopping and setting myself up like I'm about to host a cooking show. Even with every item prepped and every pan ready by the time I start cooking, there's only so much I can accomplish with a baby on my hip.
Upon George’s arrival home from daycare I expect a tantrum of sorts. He never wants to be put down when he comes into the house. So Sam stands there and holds him and soothes him and prolongs the inevitable. He eventually puts George down, George wails, and Layla startles at the sudden change to our quiet, peaceful household.
Dinner time used to be my favorite time of day. A good meal, a nice bottle of wine, intellectually stimulating conversation with my husband.
But now?
Dinner time is the worst.
What I’m Reading
This issue’s dinnertime breakdown was inspired by the book, I’ll Show Myself Out by Jessi Klein. It’s a collection of essays about midlife and motherhood.
I found the following quote extra relatable:
“I wonder why I've felt such inner resistance to accepting that anything I do as a mother might actually be a page in a book.”
There are days when I struggle with motherhood because being a mom, a lot of times, simply means to be present with my kids and do nothing else. Then when the end of the day approaches and I reflect on the day, I hate how unproductive I feel.
But my kids won’t be little forever. They won’t always need me the way they need me now. I want to embrace the shit storm that is parenting two little ones and just be in it with them.
And then, eventually, I’ll write about all of it.
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Until next week,
Charlie