I don’t know about all of you, but my kids are so demanding! Especially during meals. Little Miss is often polite and asks, “Can I have more water please?” but it is just the sheer quantity of needs and requests that keeps me on my feet.
Here’s a little example for you.
I start making lunch, on this particular day it was leftover chicken that my husband made, corn and pasta. Little Miss can take over an hour to eat, so I got hers done first. I cut up the chicken, put everything on a plate and pop it in the microwave, all while Mr. Man hung on my pant legs screaming.
I plop her plate on the table and call her over. She thankfully keeps the whining to a minimum, though she does ask, “Why is this what we are eating?”
Then I go to Mr. Man’s food. He is having the same thing, though his chicken is cut into tinier pieces. Into the microwave it goes. He is still screaming so I put him in the high chair. Little Miss asks for ketchup. I get that and the microwave beeps. I get the food out but it is too hot so Mr. Man has to keep screaming for a few minutes while I blow on it.
I finally get Mr. Man eating, and I start to think about my lunch. At this point, all the corn and pasta is gone, so I just throw some chicken on a plate and into the microwave it goes.
“You forgot my water!”
“How do you ask?”
“Can I have a water please?”
I get water and scoop more food onto Mr. Man’s tray. He isn’t eating the chicken and has started throwing it on the floor. I get my food out of the microwave and it looks sad, so I grab a McDonalds barbeque sauce to spice it up.
Mr. Man starts screaming. He doesn’t want the chicken and he has finished the corn and pasta, so I take a bite of my chicken and get up to give him one of those squeezy babyvfood pouches.
I sit back down and realize that I didn’t give him a drink so I take a few bites and get back up and get him water in a take and toss cup.
I miraculously finish my chicken, and Mr. Man’s and decide I need some vegetables so I grab a handful of baby carrots, which Little Miss needs as well, even though she still has a plate of food in front of her.
I realize that Mr. Man is relatively content and locked in his high chair so it is the perfect time to fill and run the dishwasher. (Mr. Man can hear you open the dishwasher from across the house. He appears from nowhere and tries to climb in. Or take all the knives.)
I eat my carrots while I load dishes. Mr. Man throws his cup on the ground and the lid comes loose, spilling water. I clean it up, pick up the chicken he threw, clean him up and get him out. Half his food is on the seat so I scoop it out and into the trash and wash the tray.
Little Miss is finally done so I wash her up and sneak her plate into the dishwasher and turn it on.
Everyone is fed. The sink is empty. I am exhausted. So I make coffee. And sneak a cookie when no one is watching. Oh that’s where those four pounds are coming from!