You know what’s really, really cool about being a parent? Children are an endless source of entertainment, and you can torment them in endless ways that are not technically considered abuse.
This morning at breakfast–horror of horrors!–we had Thomas’ Toasting Bread but no cream cheese. Because I am a horrible, negligent mother. Chickadee shouted down the stairs as I offered Monkey cinnamon toast with butter that she wanted some, too, but with green cheese.
“No, CREAM CHEESE. Geez.”
“Green cheese please???”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! CREAM. CHEESE. Comes in a big plastic thing?”
“Oh. Okay, sure thing.” I went and rummaged in the fridge. “Um, Chickie? Bad news. We’re out of cream cheese. Butter?”
Well, she handled it pretty well. She stomped and pouted and whined and complained, of course. But she ate her toast with substandard, inferior butter and we made it to the bus on time. As she boarded the bus, I called out, “Love you, honey. Have a great day!” She turned around with a smile, and my own grin spread in anticipation of the reciprocal farewell.
“GO BUY SOME CREAM CHEESE TODAY!”
I had a pretty busy day while the kids were at school. Not too bad at all, really. Here’s what I did:
* not sleep
* drink a lot of tea
* chat with the prednisone demons
* shave my legs
* blog about shaving my legs
* apply for a job at Target
* drop off a load of stuff at the consignment store
* pick up a Halloween costume for Chickadee
* putter around the house
* completely forget to buy cream cheese
So the time came to get Chickadee off the bus, and I was trying to get her all jazzed about this fantastic costume I’d found for her, and she wanted to know if I’d been to the store. She’s single-minded that way. I have no idea where she gets that. (Shut up.) I did a quick time check: if we left to pick up Monkey straight away, we would have time to run to the store (there were a few other critical items we needed, as well), come home and have dinner, and still make it to Open House this evening. Fine; let’s go.
We flew through the store, grabbing essential items here and there. Monkey demanded to visit the lobsters. I obliged, and found myself staring into the sushi case. I love sushi. I almost never splurge on sushi.
Did I mention the whole not sleeping and general self-loathing thing I’ve had going on lately? I picked up a package of sushi. Cuz I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, I like sushi. Take that, prednisone!
Back home, I scurried to fix the children sandwiches (their request) and hurry them along so that we could head back over to school. Everything was fine until their meals were in place and I sat down at the table with them. As soon as I opened my container, all eating ceased. It was demanded that I demonstrate my chopstick prowess (I did). The ingredients of the individual rolls needed to be listed (with the inherent segue to convince Monkey that yes, it’s real seaweed and people do eat it). I managed to talk Chickadee out of tasting a hunk of wasabe, but she did accept a few grains of rice soaked in the soy/wasabe mixture and declared it… okay. Monkey wanted to eat the little strip of spikey green cellophane that separates the ginger from the sushi.
Confessions: I handed it over and told him to go ahead. And I was disappointed when he figured out it wasn’t food before he put it in his mouth. Then I gave Chickadee a piece of pickled ginger and told her I was sure she’d like it (she didn’t).
See, I’m like the poster child for finding the silver lining, really. I could sit around and bemoan the fact that my child is a scrawny, undernourished, picky eater… or I could continue to delight in the bizarre ways that he approaches discerning what is acceptable nutrition and what isn’t. Conversely, I could just appreciate having a child who’ll eat almost anything that doesn’t eat her first, but instead I consider it my personal mission to ferret out the few foods that will disgust her; just because it’s entertaining.
Don’t worry. I’ll get mine. After the Open House, we came home and I got the kids to bed. I cleaned up a little bit, and while I was thinking about how much I enjoyed my sushi, I thought Gee, I’m really glad Chickadee was so adamant about going to get the cream cheese.
And then I realized… they’d eaten the last of the cinammon bread at breakfast. And I didn’t buy more of that.