I have another award winning blogger on my site today! Please welcome Mary Widdicks of Outmannedmommy.com! I discovered her humorous blog last winter and have been hooked ever since. I can relate to much of what she writes, since she deals with high levels of testosterone in her home (husband, two sons and even male dogs!). Having two sons of my own and a husband with an unusual sense of humor, I totally get where Mary is coming from when it comes to dirty underwear, fart jokes and loud belching. When you have that many males in your house, you MUST have a sense of humor!Mary is a BlogHer Voice Of The Year 2014 winner as well as a recent recipient of the Badass Blogger Of The Year Award. I think you're going to LOVE this funny lady as much as I do, so please welcome her to my site today with lots of comment love!
DINNER THEATRE
The table is set: dinner plates, salad
plates, knives, forks, spoon, and two wine glasses. It’s been a
long week so we decide to make dinner a special occasion. I am
standing in the kitchen waiting to take the lasagna I made from
scratch out of the oven. My husband is sitting at the table talking
to the three-year-old about his day. The baby is at the head of the
table in his highchair picking at some cheerios. The dogs are
sleeping under the table, dreaming that someone might drop a scrap of
food. The boys laugh. The timer on the oven starts to beep. I place
the bubbling lasagna in the center of the table and take my seat.
“That looks yummy, Mommy.”
“Thank you for cooking dinner,
Darling.”
“Ma ma ma ma.”
I serve everyone a heaping slice of
lasagna and some garlic bread and we dig in. The three-year-old talks
animatedly in between bites about a game he wants to play after
dinner: something about a train. His daddy smiles at him and then at
me. The baby plays with a lasagna noodle and then crams the whole
thing in his mouth. He’s messy, but happy.
We all eat our meals at a comfortable
speed. No one is yelling. Everyone is happy. It is the perfect family
dinner that we’ve always imagined. We toast to our beautiful
family. Aren’t we great parents?
Cue reality.
Actually, I haven’t had time to cook
dinner this evening because the baby has been teething and refused to
be put down all day. He is currently yelling at the top of his lungs
in his walker, snot pouring out of his nose and down his face. When I
try to wipe it with a tissue he bites me. The three-year-old is still
wearing yesterday’s pajamas and is standing on the train table
refusing to come to the table to eat.
My husband and I are having left over
Chinese food, burritos, and macaroni. It was grocery day and we
needed to make some space. The three-year-old is insisting that he
will only eat oranges for dinner, and only if I feed them to him one
slice at a time as he runs past the table without stopping. I do this
without arguing, because at least he’s eating.
The baby slams into my foot with his
walker and raises his sticky, snot-covered arms, indicating that he
would like to be held. Again. I place him in my lap and he
immediately grabs my fork off my plate and hurls it to the ground. I
push the plate to the center of the table where he can’t reach it,
but now I have to eat from a distance. The dogs move in, knowing I
don’t stand a chance of coming out of this without wearing half my
fried rice. They’re not wrong.
I finish my food at lightning speed and
hand the baby off to my husband so I can chase the three-year-old
with some orange slices. Daddy puts the baby in his highchair to feed
him some sweet potatoes. The moment his diaper-clad bottom touches
the seat he cries.
Out he comes.
Daddy tries again. Same response. It’s
back into the walker then. So now, Daddy is chasing the baby
around with a spoonful of sweet potato and I am chasing the
three-year-old with an orange slice. We cross paths and roll our eyes
at one another.
One of the dogs is licking the baby’s
face while the other has stealthily climbed onto the three-year-old’s
booster chair and is now standing on the table eating the rest of my
dinner. At least someone is enjoying it.
Three oranges later, the three-year-old
says he’s full. I give him a multivitamin and call it quits. The
baby eats five bites of sweet potato before spraying the last bite in
Daddy’s face. Guess we’re having family bath time again
tonight.
We drag our exhausted, defeated bodies
up the stairs to start the bedtime routines. The children are perky
again. The baby is smearing his sweet potato and snot-covered hands
along the wall on the way up the stairs. The three-year-old is no
longer wearing pants. I’m not sure when that happened. My husband’s
hair is sticking up in several places, held there by sweet potato. He
looks like he’s seen a ghost.
I suppose we both have: the ghost of
the family dinner ideal that we once thought possible. Maybe when the
children are older? For now we have lowered our expectations
considerably. Dinner is about keeping the troops alive. Don’t
talk, just shovel. If we have accomplished that, it’s been a
good night.
We save the wine for after they go to
bed.
BIO:
Mary
Widdicks is a 31-year-old mom to two boys and two male dogs. Once a
cognitive psychologist, she now spends the majority of her time
trying to outsmart her kids (and failing!). Being the only girl in
the family means that sometimes her voice gets drowned out by fart
jokes and belching contests. She started Outmanned so she’d have a
place to escape the testosterone and share her hilarious life with
the rest of the world. Mary’s writing has been featured on
parenting sites such as Mamapedia,
Mamalode,
In
the Powder Room and
Scary
Mommy.
She is a regular contributor on BLUNTmoms
and has been honored as a 2014 Voice of the Year by BlogHer,
and Badass Blogger of the Year by The
Indie Chicks.
Follow
her on:
Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/marywiddicks
Pinterest:
http://www.pinterest.com/outmannedmommy
Absolutely, Utterly, Totally KICK ASS Hilarious.
ReplyDeleteLaughing at your expense in Minnesota!!! HAaaaaaaaaaHeeeeeee
Ha ha ha. Thanks.
DeleteWhen I was first reading this... I thought really? she was able to sit down to dinner then the reality hit and I started reading what most people go through, not of those fantasy fairy tales... the ones we had when we were children and didn't know better... lol...
ReplyDeleteYeah, I had a few people tell me they wanted to punch me after the first half of the piece :-P Glad you kept reading!
DeleteAhhhh, this sounds familiar. My husband always says 'One more year...' at these times to indicate that we will be able to experience calm at his imaginary date. We played a family game of candy land the other night (with a 2 and 4 year old) that was just a hot mess and reminded me of this. Loved it!
ReplyDeleteI have so many more years before I get to enjoy a quiet family dinner. That's what grandparents are for though, right? Date night!
DeleteThis is my life! I can't put Luca down for a second right now. And dinners. Mac and cheese, anyone? Great post!
ReplyDeleteWe're eating a lot of take out at the moment...
DeleteHAHHAHA...awesome. And accurate...just like when the kids throw food.
ReplyDeleteOh yes. I suppose the dogs are good for something.
DeleteThat wine was WELL-DESERVED!
ReplyDeleteAnd boy did it taste good.
DeleteVery funny. I'm still chuckling.
ReplyDeleteThanks :-)
DeleteAh, the disparity between fantasy and reality. It sounds like real life and, in a couple of decades, I suspect you and hubs will be fondly reminiscing about these great times.
ReplyDeleteI certainly hope so ;-)
DeleteEnjoy the chaos! I didn't realize how much I missed it until this year, when my 18-year-old ate her dinner in two bites then asked to be excused to go back to her homework. I'd feed her orange slices, if she'd let me spend more time with her. LOL!
ReplyDeleteI'm trying to remember that advice as my kids grow up, but I think sadly that is wisdom that only truly comes after you've lost this stage.
DeleteOh my goodness I have had a good laugh while reading this
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you enjoyed it!
DeleteIt DOES get better....in some ways! But the picky complaints and whining....STILL dealing with that, and mine are 4,9,11, and 15. (The 11 and 15 yo FINALLY eat without complaint! Lol)
ReplyDeleteSomehow that doesn't surprise me. Oh well, hopefully they'll stop throwing food at that point. Right?!?
DeleteSo funny! As a mom of two boys, I can relate. Mine are 19 and 17 now, but those days are BURNED in my mind forever :)
ReplyDeleteAnd probably a little bit into your ceilings as well, right? ;-)
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