being a mom
This Mom’s Rant About Dinner Time Is Relatable AF
(iStock /Â MarkoNOVKOV)
When I was pregnant with my first baby, people told me what to expect. They said my kids would eventually sleep through the night, that no one goes to college in diapers, and every kid reaches milestones at their own pace, so don’t freak. But no one told me how damn frustrating it would be to literally FEED my children. Getting them to eat a meal is about as much fun as cleaning vomit out of the rug. You’d think I was asking them to eat poop instead of spaghetti – which, incidentally, is their favorite meal, or at least it was yesterday. I’m so sick of begging my kids to eat.
“Alright guys, I’m gonna get real with you for a second. I haven’t gotten real with you in awhile, y’all know I’ve been going through things and trying to get right with God and stop swearing but I need to speak on something. Dinner time. Dinner time is some ultimate bullshit and I’m TIRED of it.”
I can’t speak for God, but I feel like He would understand swearing in relation to dinner time, because He also has a son.
Laditan was speaking directly to me when she wrote, “I’m tired of dinner. It is absolutely insane that every night, mothers and fathers are forced to waste their life force trying to convince their seed to CONTINUE LIVING via the ingestion of essential nutrients. You don’t see baby koalas and buffalo rejecting their bamboo and savanna grass do you? You don’t see little toddler alligators talking about, “Mama, this gazelle is too stringy. It’s hot. Mama the blood is hot. It’s hot, Mama. Can you blow on it even though I too am capable of blowing?” You don’t hear baby seagulls asking how many more bites of sewer garbage they have to eat until they can go shit on a sunbather. No. It’s just human children.”
I don’t know who taught children to talk, but I blame them for this mess.
Laditan also has words for parents who (allegedly) have children who are good eaters. “‘I never had this problem.’ GOOD. Then go sit in the corner with your anomaly while the rest of us brainstorm. First rule of parenting: If you don’t relate to a struggle, shut the (I love God) up. Just shut it right up. My kids sleep well, but you don’t see me talking about it to parents at the park with the shaky hands and bloodshot eyes that scream, “I know what 2AM looks like,” do you?” I’m crying because I feel like someone finally understands me.
The Facebook rant also has some brilliant suggestions for some of parenting’s biggest problems, like a sleepaway preschool for three-year-olds (“because there is no one who spends time around that particular demographic who doesn’t lose a piece of their precious minds”), feeding kids communally at giant picnic tables (“so they’re too distracted by each other’s presence to realize they’re eating”), and dousing them with dish soup and hosing them down in the street (“bath time!”).
Bunmi, if there’s ever a house for sale on your street, please call me.