So over at The Little Hen House, Morgan, has come up with a great little blog hop called Motherhood Exposed: Sometime This Job Sucks. So here is one of mine. I hate eating with my kids. Family dinners at home aren’t bad. The kids know the routine and for the most part they are uneventful and even pleasant-like. But breakfast and lunch? It’s me, a 21-month-old and a 14-month old, neither of whom talk or will let me help them eat their food in any way. I am a very social creature, so these meals are excruciating. Sometimes the hubs (daddyrunsalot.com) is not home for dinner, and that’s even worse. I am always so tempted to eat in front of the TV for company, but the mom guilt overrules that. I have read books aloud during a meal and played audiobooks and podcasts just to not have to listen to.
And let’s talk restaurants. I love eating out. If it wouldn’t bankrupt us or make me die by 40, I would eat out every meal. I love being waited on, not worrying about any kind of clean up, just being able to chat and relax. Hmmm. That is a thing of the past. Apparently, restaurant highchairs are sprayed in some kind of kidicide because the second we try to thread their feet through the leg holes, they are screaming. Sitting on laps or in the booth or a booster may last for a while, but the only thing that really makes them happy is walking around and around the restaurant.
I can’t wait until they can color without eating the crayons.