happy days

First, I guess I need to apologize. My Hubby told me that yesterday's posting looked like I was complaining. I suppose I was a little. Sorry. Can I help it? Doing dishes is not my favorite thing and after having the kids home from school and being inside all weekend because of the inversion, I was worn out last night!

Here is some of our blissful day off from school yesterday. (Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day)

"How about eggs and toast for breakfast?" Kids all respond, "Yeah, hooray, yum!"

"Breakfast is on the table."
"I didn't want cheese on mine!"
"It's not cheese, that's egg."
"But I don't want cheese! I'm not going to eat it!"
"That's not cheese. It's egg."
"How come you put cheese on mine! I didn't want cheese! I'm not going to eat anything all day if you don't make what I want!"
"No one has cheese. It's egg."
"You're supposed to ask me what I want before you make it! I'm not eating breakfast because you made it wrong! I don't want cheese! It's touching the bread! I'm not eating!"

Time passes. "Mommy, can I have a snack?"
"Breakfast is at the table." "NO! I am not eating anything today. You just want me to starve! You don't love me, you don't care about me because you won't make me what I want!"

"Are you hungry?" "Yes." "Then go eat your breakfast." Does any of it get eaten? Of course not! Amidst all this yelling, Stephen gets too close to Dallas and they hit each other. Dallas goes to quiet time. I ask Stephen to gather the PAPER plates from the table and put them in the garbage. I hear, "NO! How come I always have to do a job! You just want me to do all the hard work!" By the time he gets around to doing the job, it takes about 30 seconds. Dallas emerges from time out and asks for food. Ugh.

"I want tilapia for dinner!" "Okay, if you eat your and stop yelling at me I will make you tilapia for dinner."

I convince them to go play. Then Dallas realizes that Stephen got to do a job. "How come you never let me help? You never ….." And so the day continues. I try to get the kids dressed. Unsuccessful. During the attempt, conversation turns to food again.

"What's for lunch?" "Does it matter? I know you are just going to be mad at me for it. It will be disgusting."
"I didn't ask what it would taste like! I want to know what it is!"
"Noodles and spaghetti sauce." "SPAGHETTI!?!?"
"Well, not spaghetti noodles, different noodles with the sauce."
"I don't want that!...." Followed by very similar yelling as the earlier one. "I don't want sauce!" "I will not put sauce on your noodles. Which box of noodles do you want?" He smiles and chooses a box of wheel shaped noodles. I think I am in the clear. He chose the box, he smiled, no sauce. Good to go? Wrong!

"Lunch is at the table."
"Eeeww! What is it? I said no sauce!"
"There is no sauce. It's the noodles you chose."
"NO! I am not going to eat that! It's touching…." Repeat above conversation again.
Switch to Stephen's yell. "Stephen, lunch is ready. Do you want sauce on your noodles? … Stephen? Stephen, do you want sauce on your noodles?" Repeat three times.
"Huh?" "Do you want sauce on your noodles?" "Yeah."
"Did you say yes you want sauce on your noodles?" "Yeah."
"Okay, lunch is on the table."
"Why did you put sauce in my noodles!?! I don't want sauce!"

"Okay, I am not making you tilapia for dinner because you boys keep yelling at me. I am sure you meant to say Mommy, thank you for making me lunch. I don't feel like eating it though."

Dallas says, "Mommy, thanks for making me lunch. I don't want to eat it. See, I am saying the same thing as Stephen but I am not yelling. Did I earn my tilapia back yet?" "Did you eat yet?" "No." "Then the answer is no." This is followed by more yelling.

I figured for dinner we should have something I know they like – burrito casserole with tater tots. "What's for dinner? Hooray! Can I eat it now? When will it be done?" Peace? Not yet. Now they had to fight over which plate was whose. Then the fight was over who had more tots, why weren't there more tots, why didn't we buy more…. And once again, "No! I'm not going to eat and it will be all your fault for starving me because you never make me what I want!" I bribed them with ice cream, but even still I had two kids that refused to eat because it was not tater tots with more tater tots. Ah, the joys of motherhood.

Somehow, Dallas snapped out of it, ran to the kitchen timer, set it and announced, "The timer is going. Let's get cleaning! Hurry before the timer goes off!" Sometimes he confuses me. Today he is officially six years old. Happy birthday Dallas! I will make him tilapia for dinner today.