Story Time
So many strange things happened this week. If there was a photo album to depict it, some of the captions might be:
"Happy day! The sun is shining, the wind is calm, birds are returning, the frogs are croaking, red sun-kissed cheeks. Spring arrived- today!
"Taking the goat for a walk! Apparently she has separation anxiety because she HATED being out in the pasture. I guess she will be a free-range goat now."
"Springtime: mud everywhere. The boys took this to heart using it as war-paint all over their bare chests and faces."
"Spring cleaning on a whole new level. Look what Dad found in someone's hat basket in the porch- a stinky, reeking, mostly decomposed mouse." (We still don't know if the mouse was put there intentionally or not...)
"Another member is ordained into the Outdoor Boys camping. Enjoyed a fun weekend with the 'sixth brother' over. Highlight: Gabriel sleep yelling, "the cot is on fire!"
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Sneak Peek
I recently sent an article to be published on a different website. It wasn't what they were looking for and I received the most gracious rejection letter of all time. (smile)
For now the story will sleep in my 'documents' folder, but I thought some of you might enjoy it. Here it is:
Mealtime or Mayhem
Meal time in my house can easily replicate a feeding frenzy of wild piranhas.
People talking over each other, hands reaching and grabbing, drinks spilling, cups breaking, arguments erupting.
I’ve heard it said that eating supper together is instrumental in creating a close knit family. It’s a time to connect; share the highs and lows of the day; a pillar in busy lives and schedules, anchoring the family.
I wonder if this still applies when it’s pandemonium and bedlam amongst my 5 boys.
This evening at the supper table, my 2 1/2 year old was not overly interested in eating what I had painstakingly slaved over the stove to serve ‘His Majesty’.
It may have something to do with the fact that over the last 45 minutes he had devoured a peach fruit cup with heavy cream, a few fresh strawberries, green grapes, and some vanilla yogurt. He had become quite the negotiator with his 4 older siblings, whom he coerced into grabbing grub for him behind my back.
Consequently, he was now more intent on harassing the people around him than eating his meal. He was having a grand time of it too: squirming closer and closer to his brother on his right, nearly sitting on his lap. Whenever his brother would turn his back, my toddler would launch his body over top of his big brother.
This episode of WWE quickly got out of hand, and my husband began to issue the threats: fun or room?
Our little guy would spring back into proper formation and sit in front of his plate like a little soldier, eyes trained forward, hands to his side. But the temptation was too great. He would gradually veer away, pulled to his brother’s side like a magnet to the fridge and the antics would ensue.
Again Daddy warned in his low, drawn out voice, “supper or crib?”
Again, our child scrambled back to his plate.
Although, this time he determined that dad was quite serious about his request. It was indeed time to consume his delicious, thoughtfully-made supper, so proceeded to eat with his face.
Yes, his face.
Not his fork.
Not even his hands.
Just his face.
He bent over his plate, hands planted on each side, and began smothering his face in his food, taking mouthfuls of corn and baked ham like an animal.
In that moment, I paused and considered that he was, in fact, eating his supper. I also contemplated how much energy I could contribute to teaching him good manners at the same time. The answer was: zero. It matched my husband’s threshold as well.
So my two year old continued to eat like our pig, Wilbur, and the rest of the family carried on in a similar ‘on-the-brink-of-chaos’ fashion.
We won the battle- our son was eating his supper, but we lost the brawl. He would not be eating like a civilized human today. You win some, you lose some.
Eating supper together as a family is a worthwhile routine, even if it is a collision of emotions and pent up energy.
A tornado of starved children and picky eaters.
A roar of excited conversation and differing opinions.
Don’t stop, don’t give up. Keep making it a priority.
You are creating good memories that you will laugh about later;
when everyone eats with utensils, and
chews with their mouths closed, and
doesn’t kick anyone under the table, or steal their drink, or sit too close to them, or breath their air.
And I wonder if meal time might seem much too quiet and boring by then.
God bless your week, my friends!
-Jen
P.S What's the caption for your week? Hit 'reply' :)
