Let me tell you how absolutely cool I acted yesterday during dinner. I was ever so proud of myself. I spent yesterday cleaning the whole house and doing countless loads of laundry, but I still managed to cook dinner. There was a recipe in last Sunday's paper for a pork tenderloin with Asian peanut sauce, so we had that with buttered noodles and green beans.
My oldest? Big D? He's kind of a butthead when it comes to eating. As in, he doesn't really like to eat anything save for chicken nuggets and maybe a grilled cheese. In the past year, I've put my foot down and said that I will NOT be making a separate dinner for him; he has to eat what I cook or nothing at all. Oh. And he's not allowed to vocalize just how gross or yucky or smelly dinner is. For the most part, this has worked okay, and he's even realized that hey! manicotti really isn't disgusting!
Baby steps, people.
So on to my tenderloin. It was perfectly cooked and tasty, and I love peanut sauces. Big D started bitching immediately, and Smella, being the small mockingbird she is, echoed all of his sentiments. I gently reminded them both of how rude it is to tell me repeatedly that dinner stinks, so shoosh and eat already. They both got hesitant bites, and Big D told me that was the weirdest tasting barbecue sauce* and Smella echoed that yes, it was stinky barbecue sauce. EWWWWW. GROSS. IT SMELLS BAD. YUCK.
I sucked in a breath and then slammed my fork on the dinner table and um, "voiced loudly" that they were to both stuff a sock in it and not speak for the whole rest of the meal. Either eat or starve to death. I was met with blinking eyes and the husband trying not to make eye contact with me.
The best part after a person explodes like that is the aftermath. Lots of cleared throats and clinking of silverware while the husband quietly adds up how much therapy will cost for three children.
Whatever. Wanna know what we're having tonight? I'm throwing tepid corndogs and ketchup at them and letting them figure it out.
*What? You think he'd eat it if I told him there was peanut butter in it? Come on.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Ingrates
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4 comments:
You don't think peanut butter would be a selling point?
Isn't it sad when your least efforts make them the happiest? sigh. Maybe they'll appreciate it one day.
...yeah, okay, maybe not, but one day they'll be old enough that you can TELL them they should have appreciated it.
Can't you hear the cries of "peanut butter and PORK?!" followed with gagging and eye rolling?
(I perhaps think about things too much maybe LOL)
did the husband at least like the meal? kids often get like that when you serve them other than something fried or sweet, i'm blessed with a kid who will eat just about anything so it's all good... :)
btw, i have an award for you, check it out whenever... :)
Husband and I are determined to not raise picky eaters. I think you're doing the right thing. We're not cooking separate meals for different people. This is what we're having for dinner. You don't have to eat it, but you're not getting anything else. It's not like it will be liver and onions. OMG, I remember my mom actually making that a few times. There has to be an exception for that one.
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