Dinner: A Horror Story

The exhaustion that comes with parenthood or anxiety or depression or WHATEVER is the worst. Simple tasks seem like mountains and I am not physically fit enough to climb any mountains. The day goes on and on and on and how is it not tomorrow yet but just noon? Who is trying to kill me? Why? Anyway. The days are long as shit. Especially when Paul works a normal length day (I know, wahhh wahhh wahhh).

By the time I need to start making dinner I am ready to lose my mind. That is, if I haven’t already. So I thought I’d share a day in the life, cooking with kids style:

  • Egan following me around crying and hanging on to my pant legs.
  • Egan crying as soon as I picked him up because he wants to get down.
  • Waverly throwing Legos at Gannon.
  • Gannon throwing Legos at Waverly.
  • Waverly hitting Gannon. 
  • Gannon crying because Waverly hit him and promptly hitting her back.
  • Gannon begging me to go into the bathroom with him so he can pee. I’ll mention that he can see me from the bathroom if he went himself he just chooses to add another level of complication to my life.
  • Waverly running around while holding her crotch telling me she has to pee so badly.
  • Going into the bathroom to help her get on the toilet for her to choose peeing in her pull-up. Now I need to also change a diaper. 
  • Egan still following me around crying.
  • When Egan is not following me around crying he is being followed by Waverly who has no clue what personal space is and knocks him down only 15 or so times.
  • The dog wants to go out. 
  • The other dog wants to go out. 
  • The cat wants to come in. 
  • The other cat wants to come in.
  • One dog goes down to the neighbors so I call her back. 
  • Both dogs come back in to give me the death stare because it’s an hour away from their dinner time so panting in my face is certainly going to help. This makes no sense, I’m sorry. It’s my brain.
  • Egan climbs into the drawer.
  • Egan stands up in the drawer, giving me minor heart attacks.
  • I’m trying not to burn dinner.
  • Egan pulls the cutting board off of the counter while standing in the drawer and the GLASS bowl of bean salad comes crashing to the floor along with the cutting board. (Couple of things I’m extremely thankful for: the knife was behind, not on the cutting board and the glass bowl did not break.)
  • I finally finish up dinner and get the kids plates on the table.
  • Paul arrives home. 
  • Kids get up from the table to go greet their dad instead of eating their dinner. 
  • Nobody eats dinner except for Egan because he still likes to eat. 

Then we had to rush to get the very uncooperative kids ready for swim class. Gannon dropped a roll of toilet paper in the toilet bowl.

Tomorrow it begins again.

2 thoughts on “Dinner: A Horror Story

  1. It’s a bit comical, this story.
    I took the kids to a Chinese restaurant and Jack spent 15 minutes on the toilet. I didn’t want to leave the food unattended on the table and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the bathroom.

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