Food for Naught

Hiiiii, how is quarantine going for everyone? Mine would be a little peachier if my child would quit being pickier about his food than a vegan at an Applebee’s.

So, I am a breakfast maker. I make my kids pancakes, waffles, cheesy eggs, oatmeal, breakfast burritos, cheesy egg muffins, etc. I know. I’m also eye-rolling at myself. I like making it, because when my kids eat what I make, I know that they are starting their day right. Plus, they’re less likely to be super cranky by 10am. I do it half out of love and half with an ulterior motive. Which is to not get whined at before noon.

Michael has not eaten anything I’ve made him that isn’t pasta or pizza this entire quarantine.  He's one Skittle away from giving himself scurvy. It’s been wearing on my already stressed out soul. Today was not so great in how I handled him rejecting his breakfast.

This morning, Michael refused his breakfast for like the 7362736th time in a row. He said that I did something weird to it and he didn't want it. They were pancakes. They tasted exactly the same as when he used to eat them in a three stack. He just wanted an excuse to get me to make him pizza. I went totally nuts on him and told (yelled at) him that I wasn’t wasting cooking on him anymore, and he could just eat cereal all day today, he was acting so ungrateful, he can make his own breakfast next time, blah blah blah.

Colin called up from the basement: Rachel!

Me: WHAT!!

He: Um, I’m on a Zoom conference call and they can hear everything!

Me: Great! Do they wanna take him??

They can’t fire him because I’m crazy, right? If anything they should feel sorry for him and give him a raise…

Not my proudest morning. It might be PMS.

One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Nope Fish

Since the world is closed right now, I figured this would be a great time to pick this blogging thing back up. Enjoy!

When I was a child, one of my absolute favorite stories was “The Sneetches.” I no longer care for the man and wish to boycott everything with his name on it. If you don’t want me to spoil your joyful childhood memories, maybe scroll down to the paragraph that starts with “Last.”

Let me tell you about my problem with ye olde DS.

A few years ago, I learned that this rhyming monster cheated on his extremely loving and supportive wife with some home-wrecker who knew he was married. His wife knew about it, became severely depressed because of it, and it drove her to end her own life. How did Seuss handle it? He married his mistress basically right after the funeral. He was a dirty rat, and I don’t like people like that. He was so slimy and sneaky and mean. Someone should’ve invented a Seuss-OFF machine.

Last month, my kids’ schools recognized Dr. Seuss’ birthday. They both love Dr. Seuss, and they asked to read the two books of his that we have in the house. Like, a million times, as kids do.

Of course, they are four and six, so I’m not going to tell them no. They are too young and will think I’m just being mean by not reading “The Zax” in some funny voices. I am not narcissistic enough to push my own agenda on my kids when it would mean absolutely nothing to them. I know the rhymes are fun, and some of the stories have good messages, and the kids think the pictures are funny.

So I will swallow my pride and give the South Going Zax a falsetto of a diva if it makes my kids happy. I just needed to vent about it to the four people who read this thing.

Outsmarted by a Three-Year-Old

So, Eden wears glasses. She’s already broken two pairs and lost a third. She’s really bad at this. She’s three, but still. She always knows exactly where her Peppa Pig dress is, and she doesn’t even wear that thing every day (despite pleadings and tantrums…if it has dried on ketchup on it, I’m sorry, kid. You’re not going out in public smelling like rotten tomatoes and high fructose corn syrup). I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking her to keep track of the crap that keeps her from being blind.

Eden lost the ones I had just had repaired the other day, and I tore the house apart looking for those things. I even looked in drawers that were locked! I said if we couldn’t find them in 24 hours we’d have to get her new ones. I was on the verge of tears stressing out about it, so I gave in and had her pick out a new pair after school the following day. Eden picked out a cute little pair with Hello Kitty on the sides that were basically the same color as her missing ones. Whatever, at least she wouldn’t miss her old ones, right? And she wouldn’t lose ones with Hello Kitty on them, right?

Okay. Within the hour that we were home from picking out her HK frames, Eden came skipping in from another room with her glasses in her hands. My jaw dropped so far to the floor that she stopped skipping and froze like I was the t-rex on Jurassic Park and couldn’t see her if she didn’t move. I asked her where she found her glasses and she refused to tell me.

That little player friggin’ hid her glasses so that I would buy her some with Hello Kitty on them. She is an evil genius. An expensive evil genius. Is there some kind of Flintstone vitamin for this? She would seriously be an amazing con artist. Or real estate agent.

Seven Can Wait

So last month, Michael turned six. He was adorable and got to bring cupcakes to school, got a poster from his teacher, the whole nine. We had his party a week and a half later, as you sometimes do. I told him when his party was, and he suddenly got very upset. At first, I thought it because his party wasn’t the same day as his birthday. I decided that I was going to be the wisest parent ever and teach him about patience, and then reveal some giant present at the party to be all like, “See? Good things come to those who wait.” I mean, the present would’ve been from his grandparents, but that’s not the point.

It turns out that he wasn’t being impatient. He thought that since he was now six and celebrated at school, that the party meant he’d immediately turn seven. He was upset because he thought he was only going to be six for ten days. He broke down and declared “It’s too soon! I need to be six for a year! I’m not ready to be seven yet!” It was afriggindorable.

Have you ever tried to explain time to a child, though? Have you ever had to explain it to him while he argues with you that two birthday “parties” means two different years and everyone knows that and why do I not understand that I need to cancel that second party so he can be six for longer?

It’s like trying to teach a turtle to roll over.

4am FaceTime

I wake up around 4am to go to the gym. The idea is that I get to work out before my kids are awake. How cute is it that I actually still think this could work?

The other day, Eden woke up when my alarm went off and came into my room. She said she “had a good sleep” and asked me if I was leaving. She has gotten into this cute thing lately where she makes me take something of hers with me when I go somewhere without her. When I said I’d be back soon/love you/go back to bed, she grabbed one of her favorite stuffed dogs and handed it to me. She said I had to take it with so that I could bring it back. I think the idea is that I’ll come back if I have something of hers. Because apparently I wouldn't come back otherwise? I dunno. 

I had barely left my street when I got a FaceTime call from Colin’s phone. Eden’s little nose hairs peered down at the camera while she yelled “Mom! Mom! Mom! Let me see my dog!” First of all, I was driving. (I answered the call at a red light, so don’t @ me.) Second of all, dude! I wasn’t even gone for more than 30 seconds. Let a woman live! Third of all, she can’t even read. How the heck did she know she was calling me and not the plumber? She wouldn't hang up until I held the dog up to the phone for her to see, and she reiterated that I had to bring it back.

Is there some underlying abandonment issue I need to address? I’m not even one of those parents who threatens to leave my kids places if they’re not listening to me. I’m more likely to bribe them with treats to do what I want…like the witch from Hansel and Gretel.