Strapping on the Old Feed Bag

I knew that once my son got to be a teenager, I would never see his face, again.  It would be stuck in the fridge looking for something to eat until we kicked him out to buy his own food and use the money we save to take that Hawaii vacation we always wanted.  I relaxed, because that was a long way off,  10 years to be exact.  But I forgot something, to tell Sam that he is suppose to eat like a normal human being until the hormones kicked in.  Today, like many other days, we were only a mere 10 minutes from the house, on our way to drop Amber off at school, when the little voice from the backseat started screaming for a snack.  I reminded him that he had just had breakfast and had to wait, because you know I am driving up here. 

I thought I had fixed this problem by telling SoHubby to feed both kids some protein in the morning, you know to fill them up.  Again, we forgot to tell Sam that this was the plan, because it is not working.  Most days I skip breakfast so early, but when I get home I make up some eggs with ham and cheese.  I, too, am trying to eat less.  I will give Sam some more eggs at that time, as well.  It never fails soon after he is screaming for a snack or dinner, what he calls lunch.  Another trick I thought I would try was offering things that I thought he wouldn’t eat.  My son was never a healthy eater, even as a baby he refused vegetables and most fruits.  I would offered him a piece of fruit or yogurt.  To my surprise he would pick one of those.  At least we are making progress in one area.  We still have the annoying problem of Sam asking me for food pretty much around the clock.  So I have to wonder if I was lead astray, boys don’t just eat you out of house and home once puberty hits, but straight from the womb.  One of the many parenting shockers I have encountered.  I guess I take comfort that he is not tall enough to start living in the fridge while I turn into my grandfather and scream, “Hey are we cooling the whole damn neighborhood!”  Ah, the circle of life.

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Along these lines, but changing the subject a bit, I have been hearing about the family dinner, again, lately.  This subject comes up on regular rotation through many societal discussions that goes on.  I will admit we don’t eat dinner as a family.  I will further admit it is because I am lazy.  And sure to hammer the final nail into my parenting coffin, the TV is on whenever we are home.  We are one of those families, you often wondered where we were and now you know. 

What can I say, the only time we ate dinner all together, when I was growing up,  was at holidays or at other family members’ home.  Later it progressed to each of us taking plates to our rooms and eating there by ourselves.  That is the number one reason I will not let my kids have a TV in their bedrooms.  Some day, SOMEDAY, I might let them have a TV in the playroom, which I will assume will become more of their gathering place downstairs once the toys become obsolete.  And yes, we have a TV in our bedroom, but we are the parents and what we say goes.  Being the responsible ones has some benefits.  

 We have tried the family dinner and I learned quickly that my role was the gopher. 

“Hey, could you go for some ketchup?”
“Hey, could you go for some iced tea?”
“Hey, could you go for some salt?”

You get the point.  I would find myself sitting in front of a plate that was full and cold while everyone slid back from the table satisfied off to continue their evenings without me.  Even that wouldn’t last long, because I was needed to break up a fight over who hit who first or demand that certain little people keep their clothes on or stay in the bathtub.  It didn’t take me long to discover that it was easier, if not particularly healthy or the right thing to do, to eat my dinner at the counter.  I was closer to the things that I would need to “go for” and if my food was going to get cold or I needed a reason to shovel it in at fast pace speed, at least, my kitchen would be clean.  The kids still sit at their table in the dining room and while their discussions revolve around screaming at Sam not to feed the dog or stop elbowing each other, they are spending quality time together. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

It is sad to say that the only time we do eat as a family is when we go out to eat.  We still have the problem of SoHubby being pre-occupied with his phone and the random threat with a butter knife if he doesn’t put it down, but as long as we have someone else to gopher we can relax and eat as a family.  I figure once the kids are grown and learn to stop picking their nose for comedy or disgust value, we can have Norman Rockwell family dinners.  Until then I will ignore the signs of ever growing afterschool activities, busier husbands, and cursing Norman Rockwell for his unattainable expectations of family life.  I will focus on making sure there is at least one meal where we sit down as a family during the day, finding other ways to talk to my kids about their day and start writing my ad for a live in gopher.